A Riddle
by Oh-Johanna
Summary: This is a treacherously dark love story of the bewitching Minerva McGonagall and her torn feelings for the men that she has loved. It begins just after a young boy's parents have been murdered..MM/TR MM/AD
1. Near the Beginning

"The first time we met? To be candid the first time was quite a long time ago."

The lights swiveled as a train passed and the dark room seemed even more so to Professor Minerva McGonagall where she sat. At this moment she would have liked nothing better than to reclaim her childhood home and become a recluse in the rolling hills of Scotland. She was much too young for this.

The interviewer adjusted himself more comfortably across from her. He was an eager young lad, and this story was obviously to be his big break. No doubt he was the best that the Daily Prophet had now. Now that the war was over. She shuddered again over her thoughts.

"Please Ms. McGonagall, I understand that this must be hard for you, having known him personally, but you're insight could be helpful for so many people cooping with this great tragedy."

"I rather doubt it." She answered curtly. But seeing the disappointment across his face she turned towards the window and tried to think. When was the first time?

She had been on the train to Hogwarts, just a 3rd year and so happy to be back at school, when she had bumped into him near the food cart.

"He was a pale little thing. Eerily quite and uncommonly peculiar. I felt uneasy even then in his presence, though he was smaller and younger than I. It was as if he commanded your respect somehow, far from you giving it willingly."

The man scribbled furiously as though this were some sort of breakthrough. These were things anyone who had seen him could have told you. Other things could never be said. She remembered him sitting calmly beneath the sorting hat, grinning maliciously while the hat grew grim. Many would have given their lives to know what the old hat had said to that small child, legs dangling from the stool where he sat.

She remembered far too clearly his eyes just before he hopped down from his perch. They met hers briefly, contemptuous but then confident. And he smiled - but oddly so - his eyes lightened, and for all appearances he was a happy 12 year-old first-year, who had just entered into his house. She couldn't be sure that anyone had seen it, but she had shuddered when Tom Riddle passed her on his way to join the Slytherins.

"Ms. McGonagall?"

Her thoughts were interrupted and she turned back away form the window, "Yes? I'm sorry."

"I said is there anything you can tell us about him in the years you both attended Hogwarts?"

"Well..but," She faltered.

"We already have, of course, a report from Albus Dumbledore, but I thought it would be better to have a peer's perspective of the man. There are so few who are willing to speak of him."

"Well, I'm afraid I wont be much help there. The houses did very little mingling in my years, I rarely saw him."

A lie.

"Was there ever a time when you saw evidence of his true nature? Or an act with harmful intent? Rumors even?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm sorry. As I said, he was as much a stranger to me as you are now."

Another lie.

There was a shifting behind her that she tried to ignore. In her head there was still much to do. There were still classes and preparations. She didn't want to dwell on the past. That part of her life was over and she was glad of it. She noticed herself beginning to fidget and a warm hand placed itself on her shoulder.

"Perhaps we should let Ms McGonagall be for now. It has been a trying time for us all." His voice was kind but he was soft-spoken and tired. "I hope we have provided you with sufficient information for your article but we have a school we must attend to."

The interviewer looked from one to the other but decided against protesting, "Of course, Mr. Dumbledore, sir." He fumbled nervously over his words, in pure awe. "Thank you both for your time." He gathered his things and the Headmaster released McGonagall's shoulder to show him out.

The door closed slowly behind him and Dumbledore stood for a moment stroking Fawkes. When he turned McGonagall was now standing nervously holding her own hands. "I suppose you've something to say."

"No, no. Not at all. On the contrary, we agreed you were to have your own words. I only hope my interruption wasn't uncalled for." He peered at her over his small glasses.

"No, of course not Albus. Don't be absurd. It was supposed to be you're interview as I recall." She reached down for her wand and began putting the room back in order, straightening chairs and vanishing teacups.

He watched her for a moment before going over to join her. "Come, come, we shouldn't worry now. Now is the time for more important things."

"Like what?" She stopped abruptly and stood with tears welling her eyes.

Dumbledore's voice grew quiet. "Minerva.."

"Oh don't!" She sniffed. "I'm fine, just a little tired."

He reached out holding both her hands in his, smiling slightly. "Minerva, my darling," He kissed her fingers and she let herself smile just a little. "This war, at least for now, is over. And you are safe as you have always been –"

"And the boy?" She asked.

He sighed. "You know we have done what we can."

"But those people –"

"Are his family, Minerva. He needs them."

She nodded somewhat reluctantly and slumped against his chest. He held her slowly stroking her hair. Eventually she pulled away, more composed now.

"What would I do without you?" He said.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm going to bed. Tomorrow's a long day."

He grinned. "Of course." But he didn't release her. Instead he bent and kissed her open mouth. Tenderly at first but then stronger as her response became warmer.

Had not the door opened behind them at that minute Dumbledore might have followed her to her bedchambers. But as it was they broke apart with practiced haste as Dumbledore greeted the man, and McGonagall made her graceful exit alone.


	2. A Dream

McGonagall stood by the frame of her bed gingerly pulling her hair from its bun, slowly working her fingers through the grey strands, and absentmindedly twisting them back into a soft, loose braid.

She hadn't managed to light a fire. She had barely managed to remove her stockings before she slipped under the satin sheets. She fell into an almost immediate sleep, but not before removing her wand from the nightstand, and clenching it close to her chest.

The dream she had went like this:

It was the night before. She was waiting for him, she knew he would be here.

"I should have known," he chuckled. "I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

She wanted to go over to him but she couldn't move. _You'd be stiff too if you'd been sitting here all day_. She wanted to tell him. But she couldn't. He kept talking and she couldn't answer, she couldn't even blink. Why didn't he notice?

Dumbledore picked up the grey tabby and cradled it as he walked. She had to tell him. He had to know. She tried transforming or struggling but nothing was working. She was subject to his whims. "Ah, we are in luck Professor, here is Hagrid."

_Trust Hagrid with such a mission? Clumsy, careless.._

The baby swaddled against the half-giant re-appeared in Dumbledore's arms and Minerva was now perched on top of his shoulder, looking down at the scarred, sleeping boy.

_Don't Albus. Not here. We could take him, care for him. You could care fore him. Anywhere is better than here. Poor Lilly! Poor James! Their only son!_

In her sleep she kicked and clawed, beating the sheets with clenched fists, but in her dream her feline form moved not a whisker. 

Dumbledore placed the bundle on the stoop and the letter too and they both seemed to shrink before her eyes. Getting farther and farther away. Hagrid cried. Hagrid sobbed. Hagrid threw himself to the ground and screamed.

Flashes of light tore open the sky and Hagrid scremed louder rolling his lumbering body against the ground. But Minerva was the only one to see . It was him! He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named there! He stared at her laughing and flinging his wand. There was more screaming, a woman, a man,, More and more screaming and still she could not move.

_Albus do something! Please do something! Where is my wand?_

But Dumbledore stood still smiling down at the baby boy who was all but the size of a pin now.

Voldemort jumped up and down, dancing playfully with the streams of light. More screams, more light, more dance - Hagrid down. More screams, more light, more dance – Dumbledore down. Minerva screamed, then light, then dance, then his eyes so close and deadly. "Do you remember me, Minerva?" he hissed. "I've longed to see you again. But what's wrong, my pet, you haven't forgotten about me now, have you?"

Slowly he brought his wand up. Frozen with fear Minerva pleaded with him. _Please…no more.._ _He's just a boy!_

And then he leaped towards her and there was a sharp intake of as she sat up and he passed right through her.

Two hands caught her as she jumped, fully awake now, breathing hard and shaking. Her wand had fallen to the floor and she was tangled within the sheets. It was still dark out.

Dumbledore murmured under his breath and the fireplace was lit. "You've neglected your fire, Minerva," He said. "You'll catch your death."

She swallowed and tried to focus on where she was. In bed. Just they two. Away from number four, Privet Drive. "We'll all catch our death." She said taking the cup he had given her and sipped. "Oh Albus, " she said, coming around and nerves calmed. "I'm not quite myself yet," She paused and chuckled. "You've added something to this drink, haven't you?"

"Only my love and admiration," he cooed.

"You're an old fool."

"That may very well be. But that would've been you, Minerva, who has turned me foolish. Though my age, I admit, can never be helped. However, people say I'm looking younger all the time and I dare say I tend to agree with them."

She shot him a look and he grinned.

His hand found its way to her temple and he brushed a few loose strands of hair kissing the place where it had rested. When he pulled away her hair was neatly tucked into a flawless braid once more. He sighed and sat straighter on the bed beside her.

"You're still sleeping with your wand then." He said at last. "Lucky then, you dropped it tonight. I'm afraid I'm still smarting from the last time." When she didn't respond he made to leave. "I'll be nearby if you need me. Now you should rest." He smiled and stood, rearranging his robes.

"Would you stay tonight?" She said suddenly and he glanced down at her still staring into the fire.

"I will, of course, if you want." He replied slowly.

She nodded and her face shot up. "I do. Please."

Reaching up she tugged off his cloak and pulled him closer to her kissing his cheeks and neck until he lay beside her and they met face to face. "Stay with me." She whispered and nuzzled into him.

"One day, Minerva" He said quietly, "I hope you will tell me about him."

But she lay still, eyes closed, breasts gently rising and falling to the rhythm of her breathe, feigning sleep.


	3. Crept Into His Thoughts

The next day Dumbledore sat at his desk flipping through the paper. It was filled with celebratory articles laced with rumors that had been floating all over England. His interview took up the bottom left hand corner of the front page, with a note that it continued on page 34.

_Professor's Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall give insight to the wizard behind the monster__…_

He flipped to the end of the article.

_I: Would you say he was a normal boy then?_

_M: I wouldn't say that at all. Just that he was very apt at acquiring exactly what he wanted. My only assumption can be that what he wanted was the appearance of being normal, in order to deceive. _

_I: Another reminder of the dangers of trusting just anyone, I suppose._

Dumbledore put the paper down and smiled. It was at this point in the Interview that Minerva had glanced over at him in an incredulous manner, and he knew exactly what she wished to convey. _Why exactly are we bothering with this insipid adolescent?_

That look reminded him of a younger Minerva, or Minnie, as she was then called. She hated that name.

She had been the damnedest little creature. Captivating from the very beginning and in her 6th year the most incorrigible flirt. It had been all he could do to remind her of not only the difference in ages, but also the strict conduct that must be followed between student and teacher. In response she had gone to the library and researched for days until she'd found a previous head master of Hogwarts who had married his much younger student, and had both gone on to accomplish great things. She'd slipped the torn out page into her parchment on Metamorphmagi, leaving lip prints on the bottom. He had appropriately cleaned and returned the page to its rightful place in the library. But he did not deny that it had amused him.

At graduation she managed to catch him off guard with a quick kiss to the cheek. She had grinned at his look of dumb shock. "Thank you Professor." She purred. "You've taught me well."

With that she had turned and jaunted back into the crowd. He had blushed. Its true. She was a feisty, gorgeous thing. Anyone would have done the same. He blushed now just thinking of it.

He tried to redirect his mind to the task at hand. He was short a few teachers, naturally so. Letters needed to be written and requests sent.. there was a meeting with the Minister.. But it was no good. His mind ran back to another time he was in need of a teacher, the year he had taken over as Headmaster.

He remembered feeling slightly arrogant in his search to replace himself as Transfiguration professor. He'd mussed that honestly he couldn't think of anyone who could do a better job. And then laughed at his own arrogance. The last person he expected to walk through his door was Miss Minerva McGonagall. It having been nearly twenty years since they'd last met.

He glanced now towards the same door that she had come through then. His office had changed quite a bit over the years. A few more oddities lying about, Fawkes of course. But it was otherwise essentially no different.

There had been a knock while he was shuffling through some application forms…

Harriet Abbermath, Johnathan Silks, Tiberius— "Come in."

The door creaked, footsteps grew closer, a bag was plopped down by his desk, and a familiar, strong voice greeted him. "I hope I'm not interrupting you, Professor."

He had looked up then, and immediately stood up smiling. "Why Miss McGonagall. You know, you look just exactly like your mother."

She pursed her lips together. "You always were a charmer, I suppose."

He chuckled and gestured her a seat. "To what do I owe the privilege?"

"I've come to inquire after the Transfiguration position." Her hands were placed matter-of-factly atop her crossed knees and she was smiling at him politely, but confidant.

He'd given her the job, and gladly. She had always been at the top of his class and her strong nature made her wonderfully able to handle a classroom. But he had noticed a change in her. She was stern and upright, though she made allowances for certain rules at times. And it seemed that she had lost her youthful appetite for him.

She made no eyes across the table in the Great Hall, nor did she make unnecessary visits to his office, or slip him notes during staff meetings. She never gave him the slightest hint that her girlish fancies were still alive. In truth he had been a little disappointed. Despite his teasing it was all he could do to not stare at the ravishing women she had become. It was a surprise then, the day he happened upon her in the 3rd floor corridor.

He had greeted her as usual. "Good morning, Miss McGonagall."

Again she had pursed her lips and narrowed her eyebrows in response. "I should've thought you could call me Professor now, Headmaster. I haven't been a 'Miss' for quite some time, you know."

There was a defiant air about her and he had apologized sincerely. "Its merely habit. It took me years to remember Rolanda had become Madam Hooch." he was good humored but she'd paused.

"Albus, I realize that as a child I was rather foolish. I do regret my behavior towards you then. However, I hope that my behavior since accepting this position has been nothing but the absolute definition of professional."

"And it has." He assured her. He didn't flinch at the sound of his name, but he noted the virginity of its use. "Forgive an old man for being so set in his ways, I meant nothing by it. You are doing excellent work here, Minerva, and I am grateful for that." She'd nodded and he smiled brightly, his eyes glittering at her over his spectacles."That of course does not exclude us from a delightful friendship I hope."

She shot him a look but grinned. "No, I suppose it doesn't."

The next few years had brought them together first as friends, then as dear friends, then (though he had trouble admitting it) she became someone he greatly depended on for more than a few things, and eventually that grew into something accustomed to love. It was one of those rules she allowed to bend, colleagues in love, under the strictest condition of secrecy, of course.

Later she had confided in him mischiefly that from the moment she'd walked into his office she had decided to seduce him. His response?

"Funny, I had that exact same thought."


	4. Like Silver Jade

At the same time Headmaster Dumbledore was sitting at his desk musing over the girlish charms of one Professor McGonagall, she was finishing up a class of first years who were trying the last of her nerves. One student had managed to turn his saucer into an eleven foot tall singing and tap-dancing platter. Which would have been wonderfully advanced magic, if in fact that had been anywhere near his intent.

Now, after having restored order, students filed out and she was left shaking her head and revising tomorrows lesson plan. It was hard readjusting to this once so familiar routine. The last few years of terror stilled weighed heavily on her mind. Now it was as if she had just arrived here at Hogwarts with her new title of Professor; nervous about what she should teach and how she should prepare them. Only now her nerves came from other sources.

Back then these halls had been a refuge from the harsh life she faced during those in-between years. Once she thought her dear Scotland would be enough, but it eventually became impossible for her to stay, and for the same reason that had driven her back in the first place: him.

When she was a girl at school it hadn't been easy to avoid him. She still relished the day she discovered the answer. The answer was Dumbledore. It was always Dumbledore.

She thought again of the interviewer's questions. _When did you first meet?_

When they first met – in the sense that one meets a person and speaks at least a little – was a story not suitable for the papers.

A black haired boy had come up behind her while she stood in the corridor one day and startled her with his sudden, "My name is Tom."

His voice had no sense of enjoyment in making her acquaintance. Nor any that would follow in the years that she would know him. His words were always direct, carefully thought out, and distant.

She'd greeted him with a confused expression, waiting for him to say anything more. And he'd looked at her very sternly for a minute or two, calculating in his mind, as though she were some problem that he could unravel.

At length he spoke. "You.. are pretty." He said.

It took a moment for her to register the words. Too long, in fact, because before she could respond he glanced away as though he had seen something, turned and left her in almost the same moment. Leaving her in a most uncomfortable bewilderment.

They had many conversations like this, in further encounters he often would leave due to some intrusion. It was not until some time that she realized it was due to the transfiguration professor who'd entered the corridor behind her.

There short conversations became more frequent in her 6th year. He had grown taller than her, negating her small superiority of age. And he managed to find her alone more often than she would've thought possible.

"Hello, Minerva"

She could still hear that voice.

"I'm—" she'd managed.

"You're going to the Quidditch match, I know," he said slowly, calmly.. commandingly, "But I wanted to remind you that I expect to get what I want." He moved closer. Their faces cast in shadows and painfully close. "And you, my pet, are going to help me."

My pet, as though she belonged to him.

"Tom, please.. I'll be missed—"

"No." He said. "You won't."

His terrifying eyes were almost laughing at her. And then…

The door slammed open with a loud clatter and McGonagall looked up from her desk to see more students flooding her classroom. "Settle.." She warned as a third year flounced in and then looked apologetic.

Setting aside her papers she brought the book for today's lesson on the desk and waited for the remainder of the students to take their seats. But it was not enough to vanish the rest of her thoughts.

And then.. he had kissed her. Harshly. Cruelly even. His nails dug into the softest parts of her back and her arms were locked down at her side with his. She was weak. Crumpling under his grip as she struggled violently against him.

When he stopped it was only to think. Casting a glance at the castle grounds he stared for a few moments listening only to Minerva's sharp breaths beside him. Then he turned towards her again.

"Unfortunately for you, Minerva," he grinned. "I rather liked it. This might have been all if not for that." And his eyes narrowed as though he were possessed by a thought. "But I'm still curious."

Seeing that look she thrashed her head against his chin. Hard enough so that his grip slackened and she sprinted across the green to the pitch. He'd made no effort to follow.

That was only the first time. The worst of it was though…

She stood and touched her lip where the resulting bruise had formed, "Class, page 127 will bring you up to speed with the object of today's lesson."

The worst of it was.. that she had enjoyed it.

From then on she had made it a point to visit Dumbledore's office as often as possible. If necessary she would seek him out around the castle and sit where he was visible.

But it wasn't enough.


	5. Or Honeyed Possessions

"Lunch?" Dumbledore said as he entered Minerva's parlor later that afternoon. The witch looked up from her seat by the fire. "I noticed your absence from the Great Hall and thought, 'She must be very hungry, what with having missed breakfast as well.' So I've come to revive you." He cheerfully cocked his head to the side and smiled at her.

"Oh Albus." She said getting up.

"No, no. I insist." His wand flew about him in a playful manner while breads and puddings began sprouting on top of her small table.

She walked over and placed a delicate hand on his arm. "You're sweet." She said kissing his cheek.

"As Sugar Quills." He replied

The last flick pulled out a chair and McGonagall sat. "How was your morning?"

"Tiresome. Phineas has been nothing but a bother since… well you know. And I still haven't managed a respectful report for the Minister—" He stopped to pull his chair closer to hers. "But all that is nothing to the sorrow of going nearly all day without seeing my dearest Minnie."

She rolled her eyes, and sipped at her soup. Being with him there, watching him - happily munching down food, humming a tune she'd heard a thousand times before - reminded her of exactly why she had fallen for this wonderfully peculiar man. Surprisingly enough it had begun when she was in school. And even more strange, the circumstances were completely ironic; She had intended for him to fall for her, not the other way around.

In her 6th year she had taken more drastic measures of avoiding one Tom Riddle, by seeking refuge in Albus Dumbledore. Though he did not know it, he was her safe-keeper. Many were the times when she escaped an encounter with 'him' by flouncing up to the Professor with some question or another. She'd linger in his presence as often and as long as he would allow, talking about lessons and papers. In retrospect this probably accounted for her over-abundance of knowledge on the subject of transfiguration.

Then, when it wasn't enough to just run into him by 'accident', she tried to ensure that Dumbledore's attention would _always_ be focused on her. She wanted his thoughts to be consumed by her, so that it was he who sought her out, instead of the reverse. So that if he were anywhere near her he would register her presence immediately. What better way to get a man's attention, than with lust?

Oh yes, she flirted shamelessly. Stayed behind after classes, sought out extra credit, offered assistance whenever possible, stopped him in the corridors, the grounds, even the teachers lounge one night, wearing very little indeed.

She had to admit, she had enjoyed herself immensely. It was especially easy to torture the poor man given her natural talent of transfiguration, changing her appearance on a whim, but ever so lightly, as to capture a man's carnal delights. In class she sat in the front row and leaning forward she raised her arm in such a way that it rustled her clearly defined breasts beneath her robes. When she spoke her skin became lighter, her eyes deeper and red flush crept to her cheeks and lips.

The final touch was often a few, perfectly chosen strands of hair that would fall across her cheek at the moment that Dumbledore began to respond. She would wait until he had finished before tucking it neatly back into place.

This last touch had been spot on. Even now Dumbledore could not resist the urge to brush loose strands of hair from her cheeks. It was his greatest weakness.

However, several months of this, to her surprise and dismay, had produced no results. He never seemed to show her any more interest than he had before. First this had been a matter of her pride, then anxiety, and lastly had crept into her thoughts late at night in the form of a small infatuation. She found herself more drawn to him each day, and longed rather than hoped for those chance meetings.

What a silly schoolgirl she had been.

She brought fork and knife to her plate and without looking up she asked in lilting voice, "Do you remember the day I startled you in the teacher's lounge?" A small, mischievous smile across her lips.

He put down his fork, blushing slightly, and took a sip of spirits. "I can't say that I do."

She continued cutting her meat as though the subject were ordinary. "Surely you must. I was but sixteen, I think. And you were quite taken with me."

She popped a piece in her mouth and feigned innocence when he turned in disbelief. "I most certainly was nothing of the sort, as you very well know. I was much too old for such things."

"And now?" She teased.

He leaned in closer to her. "Now, you are a woman of sense and decorum, and," He added, "I cannot help but notice that your robes have suddenly come undone." His index finger trailed along her protruding collarbone, sliding cleverly close to where skin met bodice.

McGonagall pretended not to notice and continued cutting. "Oh come now, you must remember. I was lying on the sofa when you entered, although I can't remember what you were doing in the teacher's lounge in the first place."

"I was a teacher," he said, still caressing her skin and now nibbling her ear. "I was lounging."

She couldn't suppress a grin then. "Do you remember what _I_ was doing?" she asked.

Leaning back, Dumbledore gently removed the utensils from Minerva's hands and taking her wrists stood her up, "You," he said, kissing her neck, "were lying on the sofa," He wrapped his arms round her waist and picked her off the ground, moving towards the bedroom, "wrapped in nothing but a tartan scarf, that covered," he plopped her down on the bed, "only the most strategic places."

The door shut behind them and he kissed her, laying her back against the sheets. She laughed and ran her fingers through his graying hair. "I thought you'd forgotten." She said, fingers slipping between the folds of his robes.

"No man is that resilient. Even I have my weaknesses."

* * *

That night, was the first in a long line of nights when Professor McGonagall was not haunted by dreams.


	6. That Burn

One month after the rumors of You-Know-Who had ceased being merely guess work, the Ministry of Magic was finally beginning to hold trials for those Death Eaters that could be identified.

This week was to be the first wizard inducted into Azkaban. Dozens were awaiting trial, more were going on without even a hearing, and many aurors were still on the hunt for Voldemort's most aggressive followers, Bellatrix Lestrange among them.

But for Minerva McGonagall, it seemed the worst was over. She had settled back into her normal life as easily as could be expected. There were seldom anymore sleepless nights and those horrible thoughts had all but slipped from her mind. She felt herself at ease in her beloved Hogwarts once more, with Albus there, always beside her.

Well, there as much as a man of his sort could be. There were meetings and hearings, the press with there constant hounding, the school, of course. But he made time for her, if only a quiet conversation over tea before bed. She didn't mind, being busy herself, and besides, it was better than before.

Before - during the war - days would elapse without so much as a word from him. And she knew he must be in the thick of it. He had given her a small vial filled with a clear liquid that would grow hot should he be in danger, and he had kept one with him at all times for her. The liquid was supposed to grow red and burst should either be dead.

When she was alone she would turn it nervously in her pockets waiting for it to grow warm. If it was warm, he needed her, and she dropped everything to get to him. There had been more than a few times when they would find themselves fighting side by side after only moments before been halfway across Britain.

There were even a few times when his vial had turned a slight pinkish hue. She had cursed herself violently for getting to him so late. Staying up with him to administer healing potions and spells, slowly weaving her wand through the air just above his temples, drawing acute lines with her fingers across his chest forming invisible runes until he awoke. Then she lay with him, willing him to breath. It had been the hardest night of her young life. He had been everything to her for so long, it terrified her to loose him.

The way Dumbledore told it, that night was nothing compared to the terror he had faced the last time his dearest Minerva had seen 'him.' He was fighting, it had been three against two, but more Death Eaters had joined the fight and suddenly Dearborn was gone. Dumbledore remembered calling out for him but only laughter and the sound of wand-fire answered him.

Spells shot from his wand in every direction but they bounced and swooped to avoid it, it was all he could do to block the onslaught of attacks towards him, and then he felt it, burning a hole in the pockets of his robes: her vial. It was only warm now, he had time to reach her if he could keep them at bay long enough to apparate.

A few more strategic spells and two beams collided, knocking back two of his opponents. A shield charm and – hit, block, fight back. The vial was stronger now, hotter than he had ever felt it. He tried a wave of energy, blasting them from him, five on the ground, two in the air, shield charm and – three more Death Eaters appeared on the scene and forced his shield down. He blocked.

The vial was brushing against his outer thigh, if he had been able to feel anything but fear he might have screamed. Later he would see the mark where it had burned and blackened him, but his only thought at that moment was getting to where she was.

A dozen times he cast a shield to apparate and a dozen times more Death Eaters would appear as if on cue. He had been out numbered from the start but now there were ten of them all firing at him at once. _Where was Caradoc?_ He blocked three more spells and then he felt it. That little vial buried so deep in his robes all of a sudden filled the air. Red liquid spilling out of his sleeves and down his leg. It had burst.

He felt the blood drain from his face, becoming white as a ghost and he fumbled. A few of his attackers thought he had been hit and stopped fighting momentarily to stare. And then comprehension dawned upon him and his rage overtook him.

He struck with such a force that half of those around him fell immediately and his second attack was so quick that those who remained were forced to fly out of the way. They fought back, but he was done being cautious.

"_Incarcerous"_ He breathed, and metal chains weaved in and out between the Death Eaters, entangling them in knots. He held them there, tightening his grip, squeezing the life out of them. He wanted them to suffer as he would have to the rest of his days. And at last shouted, "_ConFRINgo!_" and each one exploded before his eyes.

The last few to appear vanished almost as quickly as they had come and he was left standing alone, as metal chains turned to ash around him and fell. He dug in his pockets and picked up the red-stained shards of glass, trying to visualized her in them and apparated on the spot.

He landed in an open field of tall grass and saw a figure vanish just as he appeared. But his attention was on the black mass of robes that lay a few yards from him, not moving. In an instant he was with her, holding her up to see her face and there, his pale and lovely Minerva looked up, and threw her arms around his neck.

To this day he still did not understand how the vial could have burst, spilling out, what could only be defined as her own blood, and yet he found her alone, completely unharmed.

She knew, but it was better that he did not. This would be her secret to bare. She would not let him follow her down into the very depths of hell. Instead she told him that she had been battling a few Death Eaters and then she had woken up there in that field and then he had found her. That was all. That was all he needed to know.


	7. And Burn

In Dumbledore's office, up upon a high shelf, and wedged in between two dragon skin bound editions of '_Sonnets of a Sorcerer'_ and '_An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe,'_ sat a wood framed box with glass sides. Floating in the center of it were red, blood-stained shards of glass, slowly spinning so that at times they caught the light through an open window and cast the most beautiful beams against the wall.

It glowed whenever Professor McGonagall was in this room. It was an item that she did her very best to ignore, while Dumbledore, on the other hand, seemed to revere. It was an awful reminder for her of the events of that night. But for him, it was a symbol of hope beyond measure, that impossible things were not only possible, but _destined_ for.

Minerva had been mid lecture when a message from Dumbledore swept silently along the floor of her classroom and landed carefully on her desk.

She had come to his office as soon as her class was over, walking through the door with a happy smile, eager to see him. He had been in hearings for days and staying in London. He greeted her with two hands that caught hers and a soft, lingering kiss.

"How are you?" He asked.

"Better now."

She sat in her usual seat and he conjured one beside her so that he still held one of her hands in his, caressing it as they spoke. It was better this way. Sitting behind his desk felt too professional when they were alone.

"The hearings are taking longer than I expected, though the Prophet's not making light of them. It seems you're quoted in almost every account. Have they been very trying?"

He sighed heavily. "Oh the hearings.. They are as expected. Everyone is trying to save his or her own necks. There are very few willing to confess, though we all know them by name now. "

"When must you return?"

"Sooner than I like." There was a pause in which his face became grave and he glanced up to that space upon the shelf that was glowing the most beautiful gold.

"What is it?"

"It will upset you." He said, still watching the spinning shards.

She looked at him dead on. "There are very few times when that has stopped you Albus, you might as well get it done with."

He cocked his head slightly as though something interesting had caught it eye, refusing to turn towards her. "It involves Severus."

At once he could see the exasperation across her face. "Oh, out with it Albus, we're too old for these silly games."

"I'm sorry, my dear, if I wish to momentarily avoid any unhappiness." He looked at her now. "I've been working on his case for a few weeks now, as you know, and I believe I have at last convinced the Ministry of his innocence –"

"His inn—!" She cried.

"Minerva, please.. There are things that I cannot explain, even to you. You must try and understand that despite all appearances I am very sound of mind and you must believe that my actions are based on the most informed reasons."

She'd heard all this before, of course but she was as unconvinced as ever. She had seen that man in action. Seen what he was capable of. He was anything but innocent.

Dumbledore pleaded once more, "Hear me out at least."

Her lips pursed themselves stubbornly. She released herself from him and sat straighter in her seat.

He took this as consent to continue. "Regardless of my reasons, in order for me to secure his release, it may be necessary to bring him here… as a teacher."

At this she stood. "_Him_? Teach here! Albus, have you lost yer mind?"

One word, but he had heard it, she was angry. Her accent always came out when she was angry. Which really was unfortunate because he rather liked it. It had been stronger when she was younger, but living down South for so long it had faded and only arose on special occasions... i.e.

"What parent 'n ther reit mind wood consent tae letting ther child be tought by a knoon Death Eater?"

"Minerva –"

Her Scottish accent became more and more defined as her anger grew. "And what've the childreen themselves? How cood ye protect ther innocent minds from being tainted? Who knoos whet he wood teach them!"

He stood. "Would it be of any consequence if I assured you that there was absolutely no danger in it?" He said sternly.

She looked crossly at him. "But Albus –"

"My mind's made up, Minerva. If all goes well tomorrow, I expect he'll be here within the week."

She turned and strode absentmindedly across the room.

"You trust me, don't you?"

"Oh of course I trust you Albus!" She whirled, exasperated. Her chest rose as she breathed in and he could see the effort it was taking to subdue her defiance. She huffed once more before turning on her heels and leaving his office. "I just think you're wrong."

The door slammed behind her as she walked fiercely through the corridors, down seven flights of stairs out through the double oak doors, stepping onto the beautiful grounds where the sun was just beginning to set. Its warmth hit her like a force-field and she stopped dead in her tracks.

To her left the Whomping Willow was billowing in the strong breeze. The lake seemed the only place worth being so she continued her march there. A few students tried to catch her attention but she brushed them off with just a wave of her hand.

Of all the ridiculous stunts he'd pulled this was by far the stupidest. She reached the docks and her soft footsteps became loud as they clanked against the wood. The sound echoed against the water beneath it.

But for that the lake was still. Barely a ripple lapped against the planks where she stood, looking out over this beautiful place. Hogwarts, the last remaining castle of folk lore, its secrets spoken of only in whispers, its history revered. There was nothing that could harm her here. This was her home.

A light breeze caught her cheek like a the stroke of a finger and it made her jump. She looked around but of course she was alone. _He_ couldn't reach her here.. but Severus Snape? What was he thinking?

She had only just managed to banish those visions that had engulfed her during the war. They were cruel, haunting images that crept into her mind and there were times when she could not discern truth from fear. She did not wish them back again.

A fog was beginning to crawl across the lake with the growing dark. She conjured up a large chair before her to rest her feet and sit. Bringing that man here, one who worked so closely beside You-Know-Who, it would end in ruin.

At the absolute very least, he would serve as a constant reminder of so many nights she wished she could forget.


	8. Until Burning Is Not Enough

The last time Minerva had seen 'him,' she _had_ been dueling a few Death Eaters, five of them. Not alone, the Prewett brothers had been there as well. And truth be told she didn't remember everything clearly. There was a fuzzy memory of spells and flashes and then somehow they faded and she remembered being in that field where Dumbledore found her.

At least all that she'd told him had been the truth. Did it matter that she had left a small gap in the story? A short span of time in which she had not been alone in that field. He didn't need to know, it was easier this way, and no good could come of it she assured herself for the hundredth time.

She was still sitting in that chair by the water though the hour was late and darkness had all but taken the lake. She would be needed at supper soon. She just couldn't bring herself to move. Readjusting herself she tried to think.

She could handle this. She had dealt years of uncertainty where death loomed over everyone she loved and _he_ was large and threatening. Now she was only afraid of his shadow. And what was a shadow? Nothing more than a trick of the light.

But she closed her eyes and saw 'his' face. The scene just played on repeat in her mind. She had found herself in a field of tall grass though she hadn't felt herself move, nor seen the others vanish, but she was alone.

Wand still raised she took a few steps, turning and darting her eyes. Listening for any sound of movement. Silently she cast a _homenum revelio_ and a hazy figure caught her eye. Then she felt heat and spun just in time to block a wall of fire that shot straight at her. Whipping her wand she guided it high above her and saw fully the figure from which it came, cloaked in black, their face in darkness.

She held the fire above her pretending to use all her strength in doing so while under her breath she cast a spell and at once the fire shot back towards whence it came. Her attacker was surprised but only momentarily and was able to block the next immediate curse she threw.

"Imperio!" she heard the man yell.

But she was quicker than he expected and a barrier escaped from her outstretched wand just in time. It was a strong curse - too strong. Minerva employed every ounce of fight to keep the shield from breaking. One slip and it would be over. A few moments past where the two stood locked in battle and then abruptly it stopped and she heard the man laughing, a cold hideous laughter that filled her with terror.

Instinctively, she did what she did best. The tall grass around the man's legs grew thicker around him and he kicked them absentmindedly still laughing, as a response the plants seemed to grab him and pull. She had transformed them into Devil's Snare.

At the same time she had brought together the nights dew with the ground and created a glob of mud that became life-like and rose above the man's head. He shot spells first at the plant that wished to devour him and then at the creature but the beams of light merely went through him as they would dirt and water.

She was no fool. Transfiguration had always been her specialty and she knew the weaknesses of those who were not acquainted with the art. Oh yes, real Devil's Snare is easy enough to subdue and any beast can be tamed, but these were entirely her own creations, merely playing a part, and were not subject to the same laws.

The plant climbed further up the man's leg entwining him as the giant monster of mud collided on top of him before it hardened, returning to solid dirt once more.

She stood very still, wand poised awaiting the next attack and an eerie silence fell.

It must not have been but an instant in time that an arm hand come across her chest from behind grabbing the hand that held her wand so fiercely that she heard the bones crunch as they broke. There was heavy breath on her neck, more laughter, and then he spoke, "Well, well.. look who's been practisssssing."

The voice was all too familiar, as she knew it would be the minute she saw his dark, silhouetted figure.

"I told you I'd be ready." She snarled. Her teeth were gritted but she dared not move, at this point it would do little good.

"And I told you that I would be back for you. And as you see, Minerva, I am a man of my word. That's honorable to you _Gryffindors_, isn't it?"

Her breath caught.

"Oh yesss." He said, his lips so close they brushed the back of her neck where her bun left exposed. "I know where you have been." His other hand slid over her shoulder and his sharp fingers stroked her neck with cruel pressure. "Did you think that you could hide behind those walls forever?"

Voldemort's voice became more threatening. She tried to think.. _Where_ was Albus?

"Did you think I wouldn't _know_ where you had gone?" His nails dug themselves into her skin. "Did you think you could escape me so _easily_?" Blood began to drip down from her collarbone onto her barely exposed breasts.

He paused to run a single, pale finger through the thick red liquid. She looked about with her eyes for any other signs of life. There had to be something, somewhere that was useful.

"I'm feeling nostalgic." He said at length, and brought his stained finger to her lips. "Take it." He hissed. "I want it to taste just like last time"

When she refused he thrust the arm he held around her back and turned her to face him. He smeared the blood across her lips and took her mouth in his, biting down on her lips when she struggled.

"You taste just like I remember, pet." He said between breaths and kissed her again. "Do you like our reunion site?" His free hand worked the buttons of her cloak and it fell at her feet. "I thought it was only fitting.." he cupped her breast hard. "Or didn't you notice?"

Minerva frantically looked around at her surroundings. This wasn't just a field.. this had been, and was to this day, Albus Dumbledore's childhood reprieve. As a boy he would come to this place to think or read or play. Every one of his stories was set here. Even the ones that were only figments of his vivid imagination. It was his happiest memory.

"You're disgusting!" Her hand shot up to strike but he caught it and twisted her wrist in a most heinous manner that she gave out a cry of pain.

He smiled open-mouthed so that she saw his teeth, as though he were hungry. "You didn't think I would let him have you without some sort of punishment, did you? Even now," he said softly, a small lilt in his voice, "he should be faced with dozens of my best followers.." His smile widened when he saw the momentary look of panic streak across her eyes. "Though part of me wishes he could live to see his two most treasured things lost… but alas.."

He closed down upon her once more, gripping her tighter and pulling at her robes

One slip of his fingers was enough for her. He blinked and the temptress before him had shrunk down to her animagus form and he felt soft fur slip between his legs.

She ran. There was no time for her splintered wand. There was no time for anything. The only thing she could do.. was run.

She was quick, she had always been. She sprinted through the grass but her wrists, now her paw, was weak. She felt her bones strain and began to hobble. Painfully it slowed her down, but did it matter? She didn't know where she was going, and Albus.. her dear, sweet Albus would be—

A blast hit her back square between the shoulder blades and she collapsed writhing on the ground. There was pain..so much pain, Her fingers, her lips, her eyes.. every inch of her screamed out in the most torturous agony. For more than she cared to remember she lay there on the ground screaming and convulsing under lacerations of the cruciatus curse.

And then suddenly it was gone, and she lay in a black heap of robe upon the cold earth. Her skin pulled in all directions from the spell. She couldn't summon the will to move, to go and.. to do.. something.. there was something.. something beyond the pain.. but she couldn't remember.

Everything thing was a mass of torment. There were footsteps but they felt like earthquakes, a voice like a train whistle, a hand as cold as.. as cold as You-Know-Who himself.. and then her eyes opened and he was above her, his icy palms pressing hard around the skin just below the fabric of her dark green dress.

"You're a _fool_ to run from me." He whispered in her ear. "I _always_ get what I want." He shoved her roughly against the ground to a better-suited position. "And what I want is—"

A small sound escaped from Minerva's lips. Nothing more than a murmur and no louder than the wind through the grass, but he heard it escape from her lips. "Albus.."

The back of his hand came hard across her cheek. "Do not _utter_ that name in my presence!" His rage was over-taking him now and he threw her down again. "_I_ am the most powerful wizard, and _you_.. you are subject to my every desire. As you _always_ have been." He pinned her firmly as he continued ripping the robes from her body. "I will make certain you remember this in the future."

She turned her head from him and coughed so violently that small drops of blood hit and dripped from the grass beside her. She stared out into the blackness.. a few stars, a summer's night.. if only.. if only Albus..

And the moment his name entered her head she had two simultaneous thoughts. The one, that Albus was gone and if only she would die here in this beautiful field, his beautiful filed. The other, that if Albus were truly gone - she could not fail him so easily and utterly.

The free hand that lay outstretched to her side shook and flattened itself against the earth and she closed her eyes. Across the field bits of wand began to mold together and crept slowly along the ground towards her.

Another slap came across her face, but this was only for his amusement. She focused her thoughts harder and the wand moved faster until it snuck between her out-stretched fingers where they lay. And with a small smile Minerva McGonagall thought about the day that Albus Dumbledore had professed his feelings for her, in a clumsy, light-hearted and utterly sincere fashion, and she in turn, had fallen unequivocally in love with him.

The tip of her wand glowed and beams of white light began to stream out of it, slowly gliding along the ground until they met a short distance from where Voldemort's back was turned, and formed a small, graceful little tabby with white square markings around its eyes.

_Voldemort's_ lips came down upon hers greedily and unexpectedly and for a moment the tabby seemed to linger in a state of ghostly mist growing weaker by the second. But summoning her strength Minerva threw her hand and wand in one hard motion and the tabby shot threw the dark with a barreling force that struck Voldemort, flinging him from her and he cried out a loud howling sound.

In anger or in pain she did not know because the next thing she had felt was warmth and the next thing she had seen were Dumbledore's bright eyes.

...

...

A warm hand placed itself on her shoulder and she awoke in her chair with no light except the stars.. She was back at Hogwarts, her only home., her beloved home. She brought her hand up to rest on his and he spoke in a soft, soothing voice.

"The darkness it seems, at least for now, has passed. It does not do well to dwell upon it, Minerva. And besides, everything will be alright."

His voice was comforting in a way that only lovers would know and she sighed. "I know it will, Albus." She said still looking towards the lake, more serenely now than she had before. "But I'd be a poor Scot if I forgot my temper."

He chuckled and kissing her cheek, lead her away from the dark lake towards the warm super that was waiting in the Great Hall.


	9. And Then Truth

Hi! Sorry I haven't written in a while, I'm not quite sure I have a focused direction with this story, I have the ideas all mapped out in my head but I'm not sure I'm telling the story very well. But I'm attempting to see it through.

* * *

* * *

When Minerva McGonagall was four she would only eat her peas one at a time. She would sit perfectly straight, glaring defiantly at her mother as the peas floated slowly through the air and landed on her outstretched tongue.

At six she played "Dragon's Lair" with her pet cat…her ears would get pointier, her fingers grew claws and she pranced around the yard whooping and howling like a savage, setting fire to things in the yard, the cat dancing behind her.

There were never any survivors.

And at sixteen she had been just as fiery and stubborn as the day she was born. She knew but one man who could suck the strength from her very bones so that she trembled at the mere mention of his name. It was not the Dark Lord, the man of death and torture. No, it was not Voldemort but Tom Riddle, the boy who had been her first and most terrible love.

The only person who had ever known the reason for her trembling, was Severus Snape, whom now she must call her _equal_.

Minerva stood behind the back door of the Great Hall. At her sides her long fingers were stroking her palms swiftly and nervously. She stared at the dark wood and the heavy brass fixings imagining the scene beyond it, the students, the tables, the food, her fellow teachers, Albus…and _him_.

The doors opened upon her summon as she took one deep breath and straitened the hat upon her bun. Being already seated, Albus turned his head in acknowledgement. His small, understanding smile graced her presence.

She sat, poised and controlled and did not once glance to Albus's left where sat the man of the hour, not even during his introduction.

Dumbledore stood at the commencement of the meal to make the announcement. In their chambers they had discussed this moment privately, the words that would be used, the encouragement to the students. It had been difficult.

He held up his hand and the room grew silent. Minerva admired this man above all else, and it was no wonder as to her reasons.

"Students," he began and his voice bounded across the room, "It has probably not gone without notice, Professor Slughorn's decision to retire from his position as Potion's Master here at Hogwarts. We all wish him well in his future endeavors. However, I have managed to find a more than adequate replacement and I'm sure you will agree, one of the finest potion experts of this age. So, let us commence with the meal, and join me in welcoming our newest addition, Professor Snape."

At the mention of his name the students broke out into whispers. Snape stood but she didn't look, she watched the student's reactions. They darted their heads back and forth in confusion, some of them looked more than concerned. A few of the Slytherins attempted to clap.

Dumbledore raised his hand again and the murmuring stopped. "I encourage new beginnings to both former and current potions master, as I encourage you all. Now, since there is little more ado, let us eat!" He clasped his hands together and the hall filled with beautiful smells and colors.

Both men sat once more and as the merry chatter began Minerva let out the breath that she'd been holding, and took a sip of something hot.

Somewhere near the end of supper but before desert, Albus placed a careful hand over the one lying upon Professor McGonagall's knee, but she slid it away without regard and without a moment's hesitation, and the old man returned solemnly to his food.

* * *

Within the next few weeks, gatherings in the Great Hall were the only times Minerva had the misfortune of seeing _Professor_ Snape. She knew the school better than he and was more apt at finding alternate routes so as to avoid a chance meeting.

But eventually she had to face the reality of circumstance.

He came upon her in the farthest corner of the castle. She stood alone, gazing out an open window where she sometimes went late at night. It was high enough to see above the tree line and therefore above the high walls that surrounded her. The hills beyond were browning with the coming winter. There was a slight breeze and she breathed in the cold air so that it filled her lungs. She rested her temple against the stone. Everything was cold.. so blissfully cold..

It was then he stepped into her view and she saw his face for the first time in years. He was older, a few wrinkles had begun to show, his eyes a bit sunken, a bit hollow. His eyebrows had drawn a crease between them and as she turned her head to look at him his lips parted in a wonderstruck manner, ashamed at the mere vision of her.

Neither moved.

For what could be done? The history that had passed between them had been very little. He had only been one of many among her students. But later, quite unforeseen, as a stranger they had shared the most private moment of her life. At once horrifying and penetrating and that had been the last time that she had dared stare into this man's eyes.

Gathering his expression he stood erect and made the slightest bow of acknowledgment. A gesture he would continue to bestow until his very death.

His lips parted again with hesitation, as though he wished to speak but she replied without need of it, in a steady, punitive tone.

"_Professor_ Snape, I do not expect that there can be anything in the world that requires you to speak to me."

He did very little - closed his lips, brought his hands to his side and made himself as tall as he was, and stared her dead on - before responding with a flat, growling sound. "No."

She nodded once and turned her head back towards the view.

"But.." he said quietly, neither taking their gaze from their respective fixed points, "I will endeavor to deserve your forgiveness."

Uncertain he waited, but when she made no reply he stepped back and faded down the corridor. His heavy footsteps leaving a hollowing echo.

She watched the lake where the giant squid seemed to be wrestling with its prey, "No." She whispered.

On another end of the corridor, opposite to where the new potions master had entered and departed, there stood a disappointed and somewhat bemused Dumbledore. Glasses in hand as well as cloth he studied the dark, radiant woman staring through an open window, the breeze blowing a few strands across her cheek..

Then putting his glasses on he smiled. "How did you know I was here?"

The silver hair tucked itself back into place within her bun as he put his arms around her waist. "You're always here."

He paused to see the view from this window. "I don't suppose you'll tell me what Severus's words meant?"

"No."

"I could just ask him, you know."

"You wont."

"I might."

She pursed her lips to mask a grin and turned to face him. "No." She said. "You wont."

"But if I did?"

Her hand came up to rest on his cheek and she played with the white curls that fell from his nightcap. "There's nothing he could tell you that you don't already know, I'm sure." He studied her earnestly. "Besides I've decided it isn't important," she said briskly, "because its over. Because its over and he has not won…He has not won _anything_."


	10. Somewhere In Between

And from that moment on, that was exactly how it was. An odd occurrence among the feminine sex is that once their minds have been made up, it is very difficult to change them.

For Professor McGonagall it was damn near impossible.

You see, once she had decided that she would no longer be affected and tormented by her past, in essence, she wasn't.

For all outward appearances Minerva McGonagall had returned to her upright, orderly, somewhat over-excitable-during-a-quidditch-match self. And for Dumbledore, she had become as cheeky as when he'd first met her.

Around December at the Great Hall she'd passed a cut out from the Daily Prophet towards his plate while in conversation with Professor Flitwick. The page held an article with an amusing story of an old school chum of his who had accidentally set loose hundreds of billywigs in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. The result, of course, had been the giddy, floating laughter of dozens of high-ranking ministry personnel. There was a wonderful matching picture that Dumbledore later framed and placed in his own living area. It did his old heart good to gaze at the amusing chaos from time to time.

They began to play chess again. Went for walks. Found themselves in odd places at odd times. They even went out for an evening in late February. Disguised as muggles of course, and nowhere near Hogwarts. At these times, Albus rather preferred the more reveling nature of muggle clothing.

When Aberforth resumed his place as barkeep at the Hogs Head she went down to visit him under the pretense of business.

As she walked in he looked up from the glass he was cleaning with a dirty rag.

She greeted him with an "Ay" as she took a stool and removed her hood.

"Ay yourself" he gruffed. She took her time removing her cloak and gloves, fastening her pouch, ect. "You orderin' then? I'm busy."

Minerva glanced around the all but empty, noon-day bar and smiled at him. "Of course, Ab, I'll take a tea."

He stared at her a minute longer before begrudgingly fetching a kettle and dropping it heavy on the stove. They sat in silence while the water boiled.

"How's it then?" She asked when he finally placed a cracking cup and saucer at her place.

He shrugged and replied in a rough voice. "The same, Min. You should know. Why you here?"

She took a sip of the hot concoction. "This isn't nettle tea, Ab."

He shrugged again. "Close enough." And returned to whipping the glass he'd been polishing when she entered.

She placed the cup back down. "I haven't seen you since the Order, you know. I've been missing our talks."

He snorted a laugh. "Don't you have enough ah' the Dumbledore blood, ye swank?"

She smiled. "Oh Ab, without you, who would I rely on to advise me when I'm being a right ass?"

Aberforth chuckled again with slightly less force and shook his head. "I wont pretend I don't like you, Min. He's.. he's done alright by you."

She tapped her cup gently with her wand and the water turned from black to a lovely shade of brown. "That's better," she said sipping again. Aberforth was still shaking his head, bemused about something.

"When will we see you again?" She asked. "Your birthday? We could come round for dinner."

"Nah," he huffed. "I'll none of that. Guests' are a nuisance. Yourself included. Just send a bottle of somethin'. That'll be fine."

"His then? You could come to the school--"

The door opened at that minute and several people filtered in. They called out to the barkeep for a round, singing loudly "A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love."

"Oi! You lot sit or I'll be throwin you out sooner than usual!" Aberforth leaned against the bar for a moment, then jerked away. "Ah, soon." He said to Minerva dismissively. "I'll be round."

He turned to gather up the mead and she gathered her cloak to make for the door. "And tell him not to bother with those sweaters!" He shouted after her. "A bottle will do. You tell him."

She smiled. "I'll tell him."

He nodded curtly and she closed the door behind her. Later when she'd relayed the message Albus had replied, "I always thought he loved those sweaters." His eyes twinkling.

"No you didn't, you old fool." She chuckled. "Send him something warm this year."

On her way back through the streets of Hogsmeade, she stopped at the window of Dervish and Banges to admire a day-old kelpie trying out its fins in a rather too smallish tank. McGonagall's immediate thought was Hagrids suggestion that they bring Nessie into the Hogwarts' lake. As though the school didn't have enough to worry about.

But gradually her head began to move back and forth with its movements. She liked the way it flitted about, spinning and kicking the water. Had she been her animagus self her tail surely would've been swishing.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed someone peering at her through the reflection in the glass. Dark hair covering his face and billowing along with his cloak in the wind. She kept watch of the little kelpie who remained quite unaware of any presence around him, smiling and gurgling bubbles.

The man in the reflection smiled suddenly and seemed to be chuckling to himself in a rather lighthearted manner and McGonagall questioned whether he had been watching her at all, and not the playful little creature before her.

A few moments passed where very little happened. Being impatient, and surmising that Snape was not going to leave any time soon, McGonagall turned around and looked across the road to where he stood. "Good Day, _Professor_." She called to him cordially. "I suppose you have business in town."

Snape looked slightly started by her acknowledgement and stepped forwards, tucking his hair back so that she may see him properly. "Yes. Of the Headmaster's orders."

"Of course." She replied. "It has been difficult returning the school to order, Dumbledore has needed all the help he can get." She walked across the road to where he stood. It was the closest they had been since he came to Hogwarts.

There was an uncomfortable silence and she spoke again. "However, the school year is nearly over, I dare say we won't be seeing each other for quite some time."

There was a ring of pleasure in her voice as she said this, but if Severus noticed he did not let on.

"Regrettably I will be remaining at Hogwarts for some time --" He began and upon seeing her eyes widen he added again, "Upon the Headmaster's orders."

McGonagall pursed her lips. She knew Albus had been planning on remaining at least for part of the summer, but he had neglected to tell her he would have company. The idea of the two men being alone together did not please her. Not that Albus couldn't handle his own, and Snape would most likely not commit any act that would land him in Azkaban so soon after his narrow escape. But still, there was something odd in the whole thing. She made a mental note of what she and Albus's next conversation would be.

Snape stood awkwardly at her questioning expression but pressed on. "I – will you be ..er ..traveling abroad for the summer holidays?"

"I will be remaining in Scotland." She replied immediately. "I will be returning home, however.." He nodded. "…to the Highlands." She concluded.

She sensed him tense. But his anxiousness seemed to calm her and she carried on in nonchalance with a twinge of malice. "Yes, it's been quite a long time since I was home.. Since before the war, in fact, and I have missed it terribly."

Snape began to look uncomfortable and shifted his feet. "I don't know how it will be.." She said as though to herself, looking off at the castle in the distance and her voice softened. "So many things have happened.. so many, many things.."

There was a pause. Beneath his robes Snape felt a phantom jerk of the dark tattoo that circled around his forearm's pale skin. He knew why she had stayed so long away from her home deep within the northern hills of Scotland. It had been himself, no, it had been the Dark Lord, but.. but he was the reason, he had waved his wand, placed the enchantments, watched her scream from within and beat upon the windows…

Yes, he knew the place well. A small, modest cottage built in between two large stone structures that lay beside a pebbled shore of the North Sea. The green heather surrounding him, climbing up the sides of the old house. He remembered how it smelled, the wind and water lapping behind him as he worked, filling his nostrils with sea, his tongue with salt. He had never imagined such a beautiful place. And then.. the tortures that would come to pass. He all but shuttered remembering.

He broke from his reverie. She was speaking again with an intent stare. "I do wonder what I will find waiting for me when I return. Whether it would be wiser not to venture _alone_, lest I be overwhelmed."

Her stare was pointedly clear. He lowered his head slightly, shook it once and finally managed a simple, "No." She glared now. "There is no need. I have… that is, the Highlands have long been vacant of any danger." He fell silent again and met her eyes. He hoped that she could see the remorse within them, the suffering.

"All the same I shall be weary." She replied curtly. She had not seen it. Too many years of honing his skills of occlumency, or perhaps her long years of hatred had blinded her from this simple truth.

"Now, I believe you had some business that needs attention. And I must return to Hogwarts promptly. Good day, _Professor_." She quickly nodded and turned, at once leaving him, far from any comment he may have made.

She was nevermore so happy to have seen him. She was determined. She would go home alone. Nothing there could outmatch her, she was sure of it.


	11. Fact or Fiction

A few weeks later, after a painfully inquisitive discussion with the Headmaster, (in which he used every once of occlumency in him) Snape had been granted leave for two days, the pretense being a visit to Godric's Hollow. He had not yet seen the gravestone that now belonged to Lily Potter, and Dumbledore had at last consented. That, however, would have to wait. At least for the moment.

He appeared, a lone figure on a worn road, somewhere North of Hogwarts, and began to walk. He had chosen this slow entrance on purpose. The thought of apparating on the spot seemed too brutal. From this distance, the house seemed less daunting as he approached and his view became clearer. There was a slight fog around his ankles and he kicked the clouds as he walked. He listened to the water lapping, breathed in salt, the lone house growing larger as he neared.

The cove caught his eye like a sudden gust of wind. That was where she had been when he came upon her, barely of age, all those years ago.

He had seen her. She stood, head cocked, listening to something far off and then cast her eyes over the water. He had watched her for a moment. He couldn't think why. He had never, properly met the woman. As he watched, she kicked her shoes gently to the side, and, lifting her robes, stepped barefoot into the cold, salty sea. Her smile was wide and beautiful. It was as if he had never seen her before. As if she lived only here. A woman of another world, and he was an unwelcomed intruder upon the land.

And he was..

Shaking his head back into the present he stopped in front of the withering cottage. It didn't appear older or more worn than the last time, but the heather had grown over the window panes where her eyes had scorched him. It looked abandoned. Empty. He thought of Lily. She might as well have been alone, with no one but _Potter_. And abandoned.. he had abandoned her. He had forced her into that house as much as… as much as he had done here at this house.

He had taken Minerva before she was even aware of him. It had been far too easy, like taking candy from a babe. Her wand lay somewhere within her robes, he thought, for it wasn't in her hand, and he had planned the event well. He knew now, of course, that had she been the least bit prepared he wold have been no match for her. But he was young and foolish, and so it was by luck that he overtook her.

His spell shot out from the water as nothing but a ripple, but upon contact clutched her soft, bare ankles like coarse rope and shooting up had wrapped her arms, constricting her movement. At the same time, Snape had removed her wand with a silent summoning charm.

She had wriggled beneath the binds. Tore at them even. At one point he thought he clearly saw ears grow from the top of her head as her hat fell to the ground. But he was not waiting. He had already cast the preliminary spells around the house and with a large swipe of his wand sent her body flying through the door, her feet dragging and clutching at the earth.

Once she was inside he released his hold and set about adding additional shields to the yard. Her screams of outrage could be heard throughout the shore. They seemed to eco off the wide ocean and return to him full force. Marks of what he thought might be blood began to stain the window as she threw herself towards him time and time again.

He could feel her every attempt as it sent pulses to his wand but his concentration had never waned. After a time the noises stopped and his wand hand fell to his side. His mission completed he took one look back inside the house, but there was no movement, and he'd left the place.

Raising his wand now he began to twirl it through the air, muttering the spells to disarm the barricaded little house. As he worked the fog around his ankles slowly began to lift. He heard the screaming in his head. He could not be sure who's it was; Lily or Minerva's. Both cries of anguish, locked within stone walls that he himself had placed around them. His dear, sweet Lily…

He paused and with a quick jab of his wand furiously sent a large boulder hurling through the air to crash loudly upon the stones that surrounded the house and let out a scream of his own.

He breathed heavy with rage. Blindly he had obeyed every order the Dark Lord had set him. The one bade upon Minerva McGonagall had not been the first, but, unknowingly then, it had been one of his cruelest missions. What did he know of their past? What did he know of the Dark Lord's plans for her? What did it matter? A better world. He had done it for a better, purer world.

But _this_ world? Another boulder crashed vilantly. _This_ world without Lily. Without her laugh or her touch. Even her scorn would be better than _this_ world!

He hurled another boulder towards the stone but it missed its target and smashed through the highest window of the small cottage and from within came a cry more violent than he would have expected and he fell to the ground, hands braced around his ears to drown it out. Scenes began to fill his mind. McGonagall kneeling, begging. McGonagall writhing on the floor, floating through the air. More screaming. "Tom! Tom no!" PLEASE!" – "I told you before _never_ to call me that hideous name! Crucio!" More screaming.

Snap quickly waved his wand about him and the scenes stopped. The walls of the house silently fell back into place as though the stone had never been there.

But the visions remained emblazoned on his eyes. He faltered and sat down upon a nearby rock to catch himself. He had seen something that he had never expected. Those images.. those screams.. he had known that she would be tortured. Known before he had even cast the spell. But there had been an image so strange and foreign his heart pounded to think of it.

Could Lily… could Lily have suffered the same fate?

Could he have left her to this monster? This deranged animal that ravaged its prey with such unspeakable acts?

He tried to think of all that he had heard of the night that Lily had died. Ran it over and over through his head until at last he breathed a sigh so heavy with relief and threw his head back with the strain. It had been clean. Swift. What did the Dark Lord want with a mudblood like that?

McGonagall had been different. She was pure, he could touch her… But Lily was nothing to him. It had been one quick green bolt, and that was all. He had only wanted the boy.

The certainty of this seemed to take him again and tears came. Moments passed before he again thought of McGonagall.

But here? What did the Dark Lord want here? That image of Minerva, laying still, eyes curled upwards so that she may only have been half alive, and he was upon her.. again and again, and yet she was still, her lips the only part of her moving as if in a trance, repeating something she dared not speak.

Snape bent and splashed some of the sea water onto his face. Its coolness slid down his neck and for a moment he drowned out the haunting images. The fog had begun to gather again at his feet and he stood once more swishing his wand before him walking about the perimeter of the cottage.

The whole affair took over an hour to complete. He had forgotten how fortified and plagued he had made the place. By the end of it however, the fog had simply drifted apart and below it the heather had returned to its brilliant green hue. Looking up even the sun shone more brightly through the thin layer of clouds above him.

After one last check that all about the house was safe and secure, Snape was about to depart and indeed go to Godric's Hollow, but as he turned he saw the quiet figure of Albus Dumbledore sitting quite calmly behind him on a grey stone.

"Perhaps you could tell me what you're doing here, Severus." He said.

Snape halted. Before him sat the unmistakable form of Professor Albus Dumbledore, like a very wrinkled old statue. The spectacles on his nose shimmered as the sun moved in and out of the clouds. When Snape said nothing, he continued.

"Don't be alarmed, you're occlumency is as in tact as ever, though it was remarkably easy to track you, we should work on that in the future." He peered at him in a quizzical manner, but didn't seem to be angry just yet.

"Come, come," he said. "You didn't expect that you wouldn't be watched? Severus, I have known you to be cruel but dim? That could be a problem."

"No, of course not." Snape finally answered. "It was a oversight on my part. A failure of assumptions made."

Dumbledore nodded. "In the future I would advise you to do your best to refrain from further mistakes. Otherwise I fear you will be no match for Voldemort when he returns. You will be no good to anyone. It is your own life you risk with these careless assumptions. Am I understood?"

Snape, who had winced at the sound of the Dark Lord's name, nodded bitterly. From the moment he had pledged his loyalty to Albus, he had been treated as a child, foolish and untrustworthy. That was why he would remain at Hogwarts this summer. Dumbledore did not yet trust him out of his sights.

"Now we return to the question at hand." Said Albus, standing. He wandered closer to the house to examine its appearance. "What are you doing here, Severus?"

Severus had been developing a story while Albus spoke and without hesitation he replied, "There are several places to which the Dark Lord still remains a threat. I thought it time to remove all those enchantments, starting here."

Albus was walking around the house, tapping his wand repeatedly on the stones.

"As you can see this area has been tampered with by dark magic. It stills bares its aura."

As Snape finished Dumbledore turned back towards him. "You chose to come here.." He said slowly. "Though I know your deepest desire to be lying beneath the grass at Godric's Hollow."

Snape resisted the urge to spit in his face but a sneer curled on his lips in anger. "Yes." He sneered. "I have a duty to those I have wronged."

Dumbledore's eyebrows raised curiously. "And among those you felt that Professor McGonagall would be your first priority, though undoubtedly there must be many places closer to Hogwarts that you could have seen to."

Snape stared coolly back at him, black eyes controlling any emotion there may have been. He thought for a moment to say that he _had_ seen to others over the last months but Dumbledore had surely been watching him. That lie would trap him. He was learning.

He decided that ignorance would be his best bet. "This house is the furthest North. Your two day bequeathment allowed me the time to take care of this matter before traveling south."

Dumbledore studied him. "You do not know the owner of this house then." He said, lowering his head so that his eyes peered warningly over his spectacles.

"I am aware." Snape said coolly.

"But that is not the reason you have come?"

"No."

Dumbledore remained still and neither blinked as they stared each other down.

"Do you know that I am aware of an event that has passed between Professor McGonagall and yourself?" Snape remained still. "An ugly occasion that has been brought to my attention and is plain to interpret in your encounters with her." No reaction. Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "It occurs to me now that this may be the very spot on which it took place, could it not? It is very secluded, no muggles for miles, and the very place which Minerva has spoken of often."

Albus played with the words on his tongue. He did _not_ know the circumstances that had led Minerva to hate this man before him. He knew bits and pieces of the story. Could read fear and guilt, little more.

"The professor has spoken with me about a certain reserve she felt of returning home." Said Snape. "Knowing of what many faced during the war I felt I might be of some service to her. I came here first, but I always intended… to go south." He finished poorly. He couldn't bring himself to be as blunt as Dumbledore had. South to the hill and the gravestone upon it. He could be there now..

"I see." Dumbledore looked as though he did not believe a word of the story and began to walk about the yard again.

"Have you always been this disgustingly arrogant?" Snape snarled.

Albus paused and cocked his head amused. "I believe so."

Snape rolled his eyes and turned to look out on the sea. What was the point of this old man's questionings? Did he want him to relay every detail of every atrocity he had committed during the war? Every death? Every Cruciatus and Avada Kedavra?

The man was insufferable.

It was at this point that Dumbledore approached him and in a casual tone said, "Would you like to venture inside?"

Snape was taken aback. "What?"

"Inside." He gestured. "In the house."

Snape looked as though he had found a dead toad in his soup. "No. I wouldn't."

Albus peered over his spectacles once more. "I think it would be wise. I noticed your reaction when the boulder went through the wall. I would not wish Minerva to crumple in agony, as you did. And not knowing the reason for your reaction, I believe it wise that we investigate."

He splayed out his hand in a by-your-leave gesture and Snape reluctantly followed him up to the steps of the house.


	12. Fell As A Stone In Water

"Argus!" She roared. "I have no time to listen to your squabbling on who is out of bed or the latest of Peeve's incidents! Surely there must be some other capable teacher here in the whole of Hogwarts that may assist you."

Argus Filch flinched violently at this outburst. With a grumble and sneer he hobbled back out the door he'd come through and Professor McGonagall was left alone again in her office. Surrounded by papers she looked up from her desk to see a dozen first years in the yard, struggling to mount and stabilize their brooms.

The old iron clock was ticking monotonously on the wall.

Its loud clicking sound reminding her of thoughts she had wandered into only a moment before. _Him_.

Without knowing it, Spring had overcome Hogwarts and with it hordes of newly blooming Asphodel. The smell of which had filled the air so that you could not escape it. Minerva had been shut up in her rooms all day attempting to avoid it.

It was fortunate that the little flower did not last more than a week or two, for she didn't think she could bare it any longer than that. This was the worst part of her every year.. every year since she was seventeen.

The flower was a remembrall plant. One that many loved because it would cause them to remember whatever moment it was that had first smelt its enticing fragrance. Some were lucky enough to have been no more than babes in their first spring and the innocence and wonder of that delicate age would fill them again, releasing them from their cage-like adult self. They experienced things new and wholly awestruck. As though they had never tasted milk or the rain as it fell.

She envied those who would walk about freely in the mesmerizing smell, while she, locked herself away filling the room with extra odors so that none of the Asphodel could seep through.

The moment she had first come across an Asphodel was not simply an unhappy memory but a cruel, painful one. And yet, unwittingly so, it was divine. A single whiff would make her heart flutter and knees weak. It would overtake her in ecstasy and agony.

No, it was not an unhappy memory; it was the most shameful, and despicable act of her entire life.

She was grateful that Albus was not in the castle. She preferred to see or speak to him as little as possible during these short weeks. She couldn't bear to see his eyes while thoughts of the Asphodel filled her. It was too much for any woman to take.

Perhaps a man could endure such a thing. Could accept it for what it was and use it to their advantage, but a woman… a woman such as Minerva McGonagall, could only shudder in despair and try to forget.

When Filch had interrupted her before, she had been remembering.

Seventeen years of age, barely grown into her long feminine legs and a ruthless flirt. Minerva had been sought after by many, and caught by quite a few. She was anything but prudent and always game for a laugh.

Her first had been Barnaby Ollerton behind the thestral stables. She thought it had more to do with his name than anything else. She liked the way it sounded, sort of bouncing on her tongue.

Next had been the Recksiek brothers. Honestly she had trouble remembering which came first. As they were twins she had got them confused quite a bit, and had finally decided both were rather charming. She did remember that the one in the potions closet had been her favorite of the two.

"Hmph" She chuckled to herself. If only _Professor_ Severus knew that.

There had been a few others. Some she knew that had gone on to the Ministry and were always pleased to see her…

And then there was Tom.

Tom Riddle had made his attentions quite clear the year before, but she had always spurned them. His mere presence made her uncomfortable and she greatly disliked the way he looked at her, always as though he were hungry and had stumbled upon a wounded animal. There were times when he had touched her. Kissed her. Always rough and brutally done so that she was left in a sorry state. Her rather handy skill of changing her appearance helped greatly after many of their encounters.

Once he had bit down upon her lip so hard and left so suddenly that it was all she could do to turn her lips the same shade of red as the blood that spilled from them, and greet her fellow classmates as they passed.

She hated him.

She hated his cold, white skin and his hollow eyes. Hated the way he breathed when he laughed and the cruel curl of his lips. Hated his dark.. dark hair..

But there was something else, something she hated more than anything else, she hated herself for loving him. At night she would fall asleep to the image of his eyes, feel is cold hands in hers. When she was alone, he was perfect, pale as a Scotsman should be, and he smiled and kissed her cheeks. He'd sit with her in the library and laugh over the dirty words in the forbidden section until they were caught.

Yes, she made up all sorts of stories about him in her head, but the image she'd created was as she wished he could be. Foolishly pretty girls will always fall for the wrong sort when they are young, they attract the most devious of men. Minerva had been no different.

In her office a small breeze seemed to swim between the many candles and incense that littered the room. It slid itself across her open lips and she breathed in that all-too-familiar fragrance of Asphodel.

His dark hair at once seemed real enough to touch and the scene played out as though she had never left. As though she had never grown into the intelligent and respected woman she imagined herself to be.

She knelt down in her brand-new school robes to examine the loveliest little white flower she had ever seen and then he spoke. "I've been watching you."

As usual his tone seemed void of any color. She glanced over the bushes towards the school where a few students were lounging before she replied. "So what? You're always watching me." She said dismissively picking up the flower and plucking at its petals for a distraction.

Tom Riddle stood a short distance away from her, his hands clasped behind him, calmly studying her.

"I've been watching what you've been doing." He said again, this time a sense of control over the words. "I have seen you. You enjoy it."

At this she seemed to understand his meaning and she glanced back at the school. How far could she get if she ran? How far would her voice carry if she screamed? She kept picking at the flower but in her chest her heart pounded stronger.

"Now you will do it for me." He said.

She looked up suddenly. "You're disgusting!" She spat.

His face narrowed as his anger flared. She knew his wand was in his hands. She wouldn't have much time. Could she scream from this distance?

"You _will_ do it for me." He spoke again, more roughly. "And you will enjoy it."

"NO!" She screamed and dropping the shredded flower sprinted towards the bushes that blocked them from view.

"Stop." He commanded, and her body halted of its own accord. He moved closer to her so that he was far too close for comfort. His wand was now down at his side. She screamed again and he gripped her hair, fiercely pulling back her head. "You are making things difficult, pet. Did you think I would let the others have their way with you without getting what is mine? Did you forget that you belong to me? That you are mine to do as I please with?"

With his other hand he gripped Minerva's neck and he bit down with spite. She let out a moan. "Mine to touch.. mine to hurt.." His icy fingers ripped apart the tops of her robes and pieces fell like petals around her feet.

"No, Please!" She begged. With force he threw her from him so that her back collided with a nearby tree, and then he was upon her again.

Nails dug into her exposed breasts and he bit and licked at her skin until her nipples felt hard and ripe against his teeth. "You enjoy this." He grinned maliciously. "You cannot help it. _I_ am the master here, your body does whatever I wish of it." He gnashed his teeth so hard that her body trembled as she screamed and she thought that he intended to rip the flesh right off her bones. Blood dripped into his open mouth and down, down to her thighs, and then he released her.

She stood slumped against the tree chest heaving for breath, eyes wide and fearful of what was to come next.

With a wave the rest of her robes flew up so that they hovered in the air above her hips, and he… he licked his swelling lips in hunger.

A few moments passed in utter horror and then, he griped her thighs and forced his way inside her. She let out another loud and terrifying scream, which only seemed to please him more. Thrusting himself again his large hand came down hard across her face.

"Say my name." He said. "Say it!"

"Tom." She whimpered, eyes closed. Another slap.

"No! Call me by my _real_ name. My _true_ name."

"V- Voldemort."

Another slap. "I am your _Lord_! Say it! Say it!"

The tree felt like needles upon her back. The rough bark scraped and tore at her flesh as she jerked up and down with his every thrust. Faster and faster he went and everywhere she burned and bruised and bled.

"Lord V- Voldemort."

It came out as a whisper and the force of his body as it clasped on her with his final thrust made her gasp and cough.

Straightening himself he laid one more pounding slap and the force of it knocked her to the ground. She laid breathing, unable or not daring to move.

Removing his wand once more he lifted her off the ground so that she floated close to him and he breathed in deeply her sent. Then he whispered. "I told you, you would enjoy it, pet."

With another flick Minerva's robes refastened themselves around her and her face cleared of all bruises and blood so that above her clothes she looked as though nothing had taken place at all. But he left her body, mangled and ripped, blood still dripping from every cut. Then he let her fall once more in a crumbled heap.

She heard the distinct ring of his voice removing spells he had cast around the area, including one muffliato removal. When she opened her eyes again he was gone.

Her right palm splayed out onto the ground beside her so that cool blades of grass rose between her fingers. Realization only now began to dawn on her.

She _had_ enjoyed it.

She had always.. it seemed. That is what had feared her the most. Only he had been rough and cruel and there had been excruciating agony.. but she had always desired him.

She remembered always the first kiss and every kiss since. She had loved him always. Were he gentle.. Had he taken her in his arms and caressed her skin with his, playfully kissing those tender regions she would have let him take her every day. She would be his without protest or complaint. Would call him anything he wished.

But he was painful. Brutal to the point of torture and worse. Every feeling of desire was met with an equal feeling of utter agony.

If he had only taken her with the same soft, tender ways, and kissed her as Albus had kissed her… she would have been his. She would have always been his.

And that is when Argus Filch had burst open the doors in a flutter. When she had broken from her trance and bellowed in outrage at where she'd allowed her thoughts to turn.

Now she sat by a glass window, candles and incense scattered about the floor. The room was silent but for the judgment of the iron clock.

The door creaked behind her and she turned to see the grave face of Albus Dumbledore slowly appear in the room. She went to him at once and placed her hands around his loving smile.

He kissed her softly in greeting and she allowed herself to fall against his chest, hiding her face as his arms encircled her. He had smelled the Asphodel upon his return to the castle and therefore this room had been his first stop. He would not tell her the events of that day now. Perhaps not ever. Perhaps it was better left alone.

Beneath his arms he felt her take a great breath and sigh tearfully, "Oh Albus, I… I love you."

Dumbledore brought his hand to her hair and stroked it, feeling the soft strands between his fingers, a single tear welling in his old, blue eyes. In the many years that he had loved her, this was the first time that she had said it.


	13. And Seemed To Drown

A loud whistle blew smoke from the top of the train. The day was hot and Minerva was sweaty and sticky under her heavy robes. Students bustled by hugging and chatting, swearing they'd write every day until September. Minerva couldn't help it, she wore a huge smile as she shooed and waved the children off.

A rather tall and gangly boy appeared by her side as she was helping a first year with their over-sized trunk.

"Goodbye, Professor!" he chimed wide-eyed. "Looking forward to Transfiguration next year. Bernerd Welch told me fourth year is the best!"

A blushing young lad with blonde hair shushed him embarrassed and smiled up at her.

"Did he now?" She answered amused. "No doubt because of an incident involving Spider Lilies that I'm sure Mr. Aberam can tell you all about on the train." The boy, if possible, became even redder as they galloped away.

Minerva stood back in amusement. Evan Aberam had been acting very strange around her the last few months. He'd grown nearly a foot since Christmas and now could look her square in the eye, but he often kept them cast on the floor and muttered whenever he spoke. From personal experience she could gather the reasons why. It heartened her to know she could still turn a head or two.

When the last student had piled on and the train took off down the tracks through the wild hillsides, Hagrid lumbered his way over to her.

"Paints a pretty picture, dun it? Its good ta be back."

"Its good to have you, Rubeus. Are the grounds as you remember them?"

"Eh? Oh er, they's better than I remember 'em ta be! An' I've a load of um.. well a load of somethin's that Dumbledor's asked me ter look after while he's away. I've picked a good home for them down by the lake. Should be grown before school's up again. Lucky too, cause o' their baby teeth. Can't seem to remember they've got 'em and then they's fallin out. Not much use in 'em anyway, bein' herbivores, but dreadful nasty when they get cha.."

McGonagall gave Hagrid a dubious look. She didn't want to know what Albus had entrusted to him this time. Her thoughts wandered and she wondered momentarily how the boy was doing. Young Potter would be nearly two now, probably talking in sentences.. what would a muggle teach a child?

"…they're really harmless ya see, but Dumbledore thinks they'll be causin' mystief, but I told him, I says, 'They ain't no more mischievous than a pogrebin is!'"

At this Minerva seemed to come out of her thoughts. "A pogrebin? Hargid, don't they devour people? What have you got that is no more dangerous than a creature that devours someone?"

"Ah, they mean no harm, they's just hungry. A pog'll eat anything, don hav' ta be a person do it? An they don't harm you til then either which is more than you can say for most carnivores."

She pursed her lips sternly. "They follow you around infusing hopelessness into you until you collapse. Whatever it is Dumbledore has allowed you to raise they had better be gone before I or _any_ of the students return."

"Ah Professor, don worry so much. I can handle any creature this side o' the Peruvian Vipertooth. All they needs a bit a' love."

"All the same, Hagrid, no later than August twelfth."

Hagrid looked a little put out but nodded. "Alright. The twelfth it is then."

He grumbled to himself as he walked back towards his hut. Minerva looked at the oncoming rain clouds and sighed heavily. She didn't really want to leave Hogwarts this year.

As if reading her thoughts Professor Dumbledore sauntered up behind her. "I'll be sorry to see you go. It's been such a treasure these last few months, just as it was when you first came to me."

Minerva clasped her hands in front of her as she turned to face him.

"Ah, that is a pose I know well. I suppose I should brace myself for something I won't want to hear. What is it? You're not coming back next year? I should hire another Transfiguration teacher? No.. I know, you've discovered what Hagrid's been keeping behind his hut." His eyes were twinkling and his head bobbed back and forth merrily waiting for her reply.

"You know very well I prefer to remain ignorant on that subject."

"Yes, my dear, I do. Have I thanked you for that recently?"

"No."

"Ah well, remind me later wont you? I'm a very busy and important man, it's hard to find time for such things."

"Well I never – " She made to protest but he caught her in his arms laughing.

"Oh my darling girl. What am I to do with you?"

"You could release me, that's what you could do. Albus, really, there are people around, what would they think?"

"I imagine they would think 'high time!'"

She shot him a look.

"You're right, you're right, highly inappropriate behavior and I do apologize." He stepped back. "Let's start over." He cleared his throat and spoke in a mockingly professional voice. "Professor McGonagall, I trust the students all made it safely onto the train? No stragglers? Well then it seems it is just you and I here. Alone at last… My god you're eyes are green! Forgive me I cannot help myself –"

"Albus.."

"Your mere presence awakens my soul with fervor!"

"Albus.."

"I – I must have you, I must!" Albus Dumbledore now grabbed her by the waist and thrust her to him in a dramatic act of passion, where he held her for a moment before he spoke again. This time much more himself.

"I'm sorry dear, was that more appropriate behavior for a Headmaster and his Professor?"

She looked up at him through narrowed eyes. "You're in a rather incorrigible mood today, aren't you?"

Albus chuckled softly. "Let an old man have his fun. Besides, it will be several months before I hold you again, and I haven't thanked you yet."

With the most delicate of motions he bent down and kissed her soft wrinkled cheeks, first the left, then the right, and when she smiled he followed the lines down to her neck and up again to her ears until she gave in to him and kissed his open mouth. They held each other there for only a moment.

Approaching voices made her break apart with hast just in time to see two wizards lost in conversation coming up the road. The two men waved in greeting.

"Hello Albus, Professor McGonagall."

"Good day Burritt, Dainis. How's your wife?"

Dainis shook his head. "Pregnant again, I've just gone to Hogsmeade for supplies."

"Pregnant? Let me offer my congratulations! This'll be number five now, yes?"

Dainis sounded utterly morose. "Six, this ones twins."

Burritt laughed. "I thought he needed a walk before he went home. We've spent all day at the Hog's Head. He's a bit loopy."

"Well Good day to you then. Give my best to Bethany."

A loud groan could be heard followed by laughter as the two men walked away.

"He looks familiar, do I know him?" Minerva asked.

"That's William Draker's father. We'll be seeing his siblings in a year or two I dare say. Wonderful family of Hufflepuffs. They go back a century or more.. Now, where were we?" He began with a grin.

"I was going to ask you something."

Dumbledore feigned confusion. "Are you sure? I was quite certain we'd move on to something with a little more of an appeal."

Minerva ignored him and barreled through with her question. "Would you care to come and stay with me this summer?" She seemed nervous and spoke with extra rigidness in her voice. "You and… well you have business to attend to but I thought perhaps afterwards you might come and keep me company. You are in need of rest and where I live no one could find you."

Dumbledore halted his merriment and studied her cautiously. Minerva did not like to share her bed. She preferred an arrangement where it was understood that only certain nights were her sheets available. Those being the same nights that her thighs were. The two had lived as neighbors at Hogwarts these many years and Albus had never pressed the matter.

For a moment he thought that her sudden invitation could have more to do with the place she would be staying than with him but he did not dare to question it.

"I would be honored, Minerva. I have always wanted to see the place you grew up. I've heard so much about it."

"Good. Send an owl when you're coming. And then you can tell me what you and _that man_ have been up to."

Dumbledore nodded with a smile. "I will." With a quick glance towards town he said, "I've got to go –"

"I know. Say hello to Aberforth for me, won't you? I'll see you at supper." She quickly kissed his cheek and made her way back up to the castle.

Dumbledore was left watching her graceful figure flow out of sight, grinning and trying not to stare at any inappropriate feature.


	14. For Only Ripples Remained

Hi everyone, thanks so much for your great reviews! I love getting them and they really make me want to keep writing. I nearly gave up on this story a long time ago so thank you for helping me keep it going. Hope you'll continue to enjoy it.

– Me

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A block or so off the High Street, Dumbledore dusted off his boots and stepped into the dark room of the Hog's Head Tavern. The barman looked up slightly irritated but immediately produced a drink in a dirty glass.

Dumbledore sat and drank obligingly. "Thank you."

The two men sat in silence, the bar seemed a river between them and both wondered how that rickety old bridge of drinks had managed to hold their weight for so many years.

When they finally spoke it was Aberforth's grough voice that broke the silence. "Its that time a' year again I suppose."

"It is. I'm sorry we've seen so little of each other this year, the Ministry –"

"You've been busy, I got things to do too. I never tell you to come round, ya know."

"I know. Have you been back home?"

"Nah, I don't go back there no more. I've got a place upstairs. It's decent. It'll do."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully and sipped his mead. He was never served anything else here, house policy.

"When you leave then?"

"Tonight. I have business in London."

"Of course. Ministry can't survive without _you_ can it?"

Albus said nothing. Aberforth seemed to sense something in the demeanor of the man slumped at the bar and at last dragged up a stool. He disliked uncomfortable conversations, and his brother had an art for them. But it seemed that this was a meeting he would have to suffer through.

Grasping for something to say he went for an obvious starter. "Min came in here the other week. She talks a lot."

"Ha, yes she does, doesn't she? She has a gift for the tongue as any who spoke a language."

"Keeps up with you at any rate."

"There are not many women who could, I admit. Minerva is a great comfort, especially now. "

"Don't know what she sees in you."

"Nor I."

Aberforth rolled his eyes in disgust. If there was anything he disliked more than – well, more than his brother – it was his brother in love.

"So what of it then? Get it out! It'll make me sick but the mead might help me stomach it. Better speak before I change my mind."

Dumbledore smiled. "You have always been the better of us, Aberforth. You are, of course, the only third party to know our little secret, and so the only one I may confide in."

He grumbled in response and gulped a bit of mead.

"I'm afraid I don't know what to make of her lately. She seems so lost, and lonely I think. During the war she was strong, stronger than I'd ever imagined, but she was terrified. She would wake up most nights screaming, but in battle I never saw her falter. And now.. the nightmares have stopped, but she seems to have lost her strength. She prefers to be alone but as far as I can tell she does nothing. Only sits. Merlin knows what she thinks of, I can't read her anymore."

The bell above the door rang as a few customers entered. Aberforth rose and served them their drinks, taking his time as usual. When he sat back down again Dumbledore resumed as though there had been no interruption.

"As though to counter her solitude, she seems to be allowing me closer than she ever has before. I tell you I don't know what to make of it. You know she said she loved me the other day. Of course, I have no idea why… it was spoken in such a strange way, like a confession."

When Albus hovered over this thought Aberforth decided to chime in, he wasn't so fond of words as his brother, but he could appreciate the need for them in conversations, if only to move them along.

"Its about time then, isn't it? What, think you're too old for marriage? Probably right."

Albus shook his head. "No, no, nothing like that. I believe.. I believe I may be beginning to understand her after all. She's asked me to stay with her this summer, in the Highlands."

"Well?"

"I've been there already."

"And?"

Dumbledore looked up from his drink with such an expression that to Aberforth seemed so familiar his fists clenched savagely in response. Bitter memories raced through his head. It was he could do to keep from bursting out _What have you done?_

Instead he forced himself to listen, but his lips curled and he waited for the worst. What had his pious brother done this time that had hurt yet another innocent fool?

Albus voice shook as he spoke. "Oh my dear brother, it was a horror I was not expecting. She has always spoke of her childhood home with such a fondness. How she would play there and laugh there. Her first broom. Her mother's cakes. I never imagined.."

More customers entered and Aberforth hollered at their request for drink. "Go down the Three Broomsticks if you want service, I haven't the time!"

The two men taken aback and disgruntled, left the pub with a slammed door. Aberforth waved them off. "Bah. Come on then, get to the point."

Albus seemed barely able to continue, so white was his face, "I went inside. Inside this charming childhood home. The walls were marred with blood. Every piece of furniture was torn up. Human scratches against the doorways and along the floor. There were dark traces.. more than could be counted, and none I'd dare speak of. Too heinous was their nature."

Aberforth poured another drought of mead and shoved it towards Albus. "Drink." He said. "Oh, go on. You could stand to be spared some thinking."

Dumbledore drank obediently.

"Just what're you sayin' now, she was tortured?"

"Worse." Said Albus returning an empty glass. "Much worse, I fear. She.. she was kept. I have a piece of the story, never mind from who, but I know how and by who she was kept."

"How long?"

"At least two years."

"Goh!" Aberforth finished off his own mead and slammed the cup down again. "Who dun it? I'll kill 'em myself if you wont."

Dumbledore shook his head and rested it in his hands. The words were circling through his head, _A man I've sworn to protect and the one he will help me defeat_. But all he could manage was, "It doesn't matter."

"God damn it Albus, you're disgusting. You know who it is and you're sitting here in this –"

"Aberforth," Albus said sharply, "I have been hunting that same man for the better part of this century. I don't need a lecture on that."

The barkeep stood in a huff and used the customers as an excuse to walk about. He didn't want to hear anymore. His anger flared. How many people had suffered from their involvement with his brother. Add Minerva to the list and you could fill a book, but she was one of the ones that didn't deserve it. Why if.. if a woman like that had ever given him the eye, he wouldn't have treated her so callously. He would have protected her, that's for damn sure.

After a time, when he could think of nothing else to do, Aberforth returned to the bar but now stood at a distance from his brother.

"What _are_ you going to do then?" he asked.

"I've cleaned the house. Cleared it of any essence that was left. I'm going to go to her. If… if I can learn how he hurt her, I can better know how to mend it."

"You may find its not something even your remarkable skills are capable of healing, Albus. You think of that sometime, will ya?"

Dumbledore nodded, he could tell he had worn out his welcome and stood to leave. Aberforth made a slight jerking motion. "Listen." He forced. "If there's something I can do. Not for you, mind, you've done enough. But if she needs something, anything, you let me know."

"I will. Thank you."

Aberforth grunted in return.

Albus hated to leave on such terms but there was little much to be done now. He would have to wait until the summer term was over to make amends. Again…

Two tiresome and tricky months later Dumbledore found himself walking up a lonely dirt road all but over growing with heather. This countryside seemed to stretch on for days across this country. The jutting hills poised monumentous around him.

It was the first sunny day in over three weeks. The spring rains had lasted longer than desired and the ground was still wet with it. But today the heather seemed to glisten, whispering to each other.

Across a particularly green patch, Dumbledore could see a smallish cove littered with pebbles and breaking waves. In the center of them stood the most enchanting woman he had ever seen, basking in the newly granted sun. Her black robes cascaded down a delicate body and floated about the water at her feet. Face cast towards the sun she let out a loud laugh. Loose dark hair fell from her shoulders and was scattered about in the breeze.

Nothing could have prepared him less for this sight. Had he not taken a second look, he'd have sworn it was the long lost girl of sixteen before him. He'd never seen Minerva look so beautiful.

After a time, he cleared his throat and spoke. "Are we enjoying our summer holidays?"

Minerva turned towards him and smiled absentmindedly. "The selkies have been telling me the most outlandish stories. You'll have to hear some. It's been so long since I've seen them."

Glancing down Albus at last noticed a group of harbor seals that flitted about the water where she stood knee deep. They looked up at him with their great black eyes, heads bobbing in the water, and seemed to come to a decision. With what seemed like a quick word to Minerva they splashed once or twice and gaily swam away.

When he turned back towards her, her hair had been neatly tucked into a bun and she was walking towards him from the water.

She greeted him with a mocking scold. "You said you weren't coming until the end of the week."

He grinned and placed a kiss on her cheek. "I lied."


	15. To Bear Witness

Sorry, uploaded the unedited version. here ya go.

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Outside her childhood home, Minerva sat at a small breakfast table, warm cup of tea in front of her. Dumbledore emerged from the house and it seemed as strange a sight to her as any. It had only been a few days since he'd come here and she had already shown him around to most of her favorite places.

He joined her at the table and placed a hand over her own. Her warm skin felt wonderful in his. Here he didn't have to worry who might be watching, or remember that they only had a little time before duties would take them. Here in this secluded, northern cove they could act as they pleased.

Much as he relished this new freedom between them he knew it must soon end. There were matters he felt should be discussed. The first morning he had risen early to walk about the house. He felt the walls where he knew her claw marks had been and checked the air for any more traces, but of course there were none.

"You see those jutting hills just there?" Minerva said suddenly. "You know the muggles here believe the hills form this way because of something called a volcano. Devilish red liquid that shoots up and hardens into the rock. Such a curious notion. I rather think the Moonblithes would say otherwise."

"I imagine they would have much to say on any subject"

"Well I will introduce you then, you'll have a lot in common." She was laughing at him.

He leaned across the table. "Have I told you how happy I am that you've invited me here?"

"Yes, you have."

"Allow me to say it again." His hand came up and lightly brushed a bit of fallen hair from her cheek. "I am so very glad to be here with you."

All at once she was shy, and a blush crept up her face. "I must admit I have been enjoying your company. I've quite forgotten myself here."

He smiled and she looked at her thumbs. "I meant what I said, you know, before. Merlin knows I've tried to resist, things have always been far too difficult between us, but… well. My mother used to tell me the story of a woman who wove her heart into a tapestry, so that no one else could take it. I believe that's what you have done. Of course it's silly. I only mean to say –"

"I know." He said kindly.

She nodded briskly and reached for another sip of tea. "Well as long as you know."

He laughed at this and nuzzled himself into her hair. "Oh, Minerva" He breathed. "Oh my darling, darling girl. Couldn't you stay with me like this always?"

"You know I can't. What would they say?"

"Who? The school? The Ministry? What do they matter?"

"I would loose every ounce of credibility. My station my actions and decisions.. they would all be your doing. I would subduct into your ever-encompassing aura. At least now I maintain authority over my life."

"But not your heart." He chided.

"You insist on egging me on, don't you? Just put the thought out of your head, Albus. I may – I may love you, but that is all I can give you. Anything more would be a disaster."

"Very well, dearest. Then it is more than enough."

She looked at him with sigh and kissed him tenderly which he took as her way of thanking him. Perhaps in time she would feel differently. He'd waited this long after all. What were a few more years in a hundred? Clearing his throat and looking around he awkwardly changed the conversation.

"How can you stand to leave such beauty as this each year?"

"Very easily. Hogwarts may not be here, but no one could say it does not contain some beauty of its own. "

"I have often thought so."

At the mention of Hogwarts he could not help but think of all that he had recently learned about the place he now sat. And yet, Minerva had shown no sign of any discomfort or worry since he had come. In fact it was the complete opposite. She moved about the house as though she were still a child in her mother's home. She smiled more here, seemed younger. Was less cross and prim. She seemed even more tolerant of his whimsical nature and made him more allowances of humor that usual. She was even more charming herself, if that were possible.

He paused momentarily to enjoy what may be the last peaceful hour here before he spoke again. "Why is it you've stayed away so long?"

"Oh," she sighed. "It wasn't safe to be alone."

"And before the war?"

She sipped her tea calmly, but notable avoided his eye. "After my parents died I had little reason to visit, I suppose. It seemed a sad place."

"Is that all?"

She looked up now and grew more somber. "Why are you asking?"

He leaned forward. "Minerva, I know so little of your life beyond Hogwarts. I've known you as a student and as a teacher but the years in between are blank pages. Is it wrong for me to wonder?"

"Do you really think after all these year that I cannot tell the difference between innocent curiosity and inquisitive fishing? Honestly, you treat me like one of your students."

"I don't mean to pry –"

"You do."

She was pursing her lips at him. If he hadn't felt the need to continue he would have kissed them. She was such a muddle of tempers. He adored her for it.

"Well alright, I do mean to pry. But you need not answer, only… Let me start again for there is something I must tell you. I promised to tell you why Severus has been accompanying me this summer. Initially it was to seek out more death eaters. He is privy to some of their whereabouts and I thought he would be useful. But we also visited some of the homes of those tortured." Here Dumbledore spoke slowly, carefully stepping over the words, choosing the proper vowels. She seemed to notice the caution in his tone and looked him defiantly in the eyes.

"We removed traces, you see, any dark magic that had been left. There were more houses than I care to mention south of London. But there were also those in the north… more to the point, Minerva, there was this house where now we sit. You need not tell me if you wish, but you should know that I have been here before, under.. under much different circumstances."

He fell silent. For a moment all that could be heard was the violent surf breaking on the rocks. And then she spoke.

"I assume you think I've been tortured."

"Minerva –"

"I told I haven't been here since my mother died, Merlin rest her. What was done with the house after that is unbeknownst to me."

"I saw it, Minerva, the blood and the markings. Saw..saw the.." He couldn't say it. "Severus has told me of his part in it—"

Her face turned white. "He had no right to."

"He had no choice. I followed him here without his knowledge. I am not so trusting as you may believe."

Minerva stood and walked to the waters edge. "I suppose he told you why this house was filled with dark magic?"

"Only how it came to be. I doubt he himself knows the reasons for it. That, I believe, only you can answer." Dumbledore had followed and now stood beside her.

The water danced and played before them and Minerva was brought to a memory she did not care to revive. Snape had been here. Now she knew why her little cottage had been so welcoming upon her return. She had expected the worst. Or rather that nothing would have changed from the day she had broken free; everything about the place in ruin and despair, covered everywhere with pieces of her own flesh. At least Snape had spoken the truth.. no danger

"Can you tell me nothing of what happened here?" Dumbledore asked.

She gritted her teeth in anger. "Does it even matter now? It is done. Isn't it enough that it is done and over and can never, _will_ never, be again? Scores of wizards were treated worse than I."

"Of course, during the war I imagine they were. But this was long before, and you are pure of blood. I can find no reason –"

"Can you really not guess and save me the trouble of repeating it?"

She closed her eyes and in a moment could see _his_ face. She had fallen to the floor and he towered above her.

"Tom, please.. there must be others who would – you don't need me—"

"Others?" He'd roared. "Did you think I haven't had others!? Did you think you were _special_?" She brought a hand to her throat where he had held her. "I get what I desire, pet. There is nothing else to it."

Minerva began to breath heavier and her chest rose and fell against her will. Dumbledore placed a hand on her shoulder and she whirled on him.

"I have spent years in forgetting. How dare you come here to resurrect a ghost!"

"Minerva, I was worried. The things I saw.."

"You had no right to! You want to know my past, Albus Dumbledore? The truth is more sordid and despicable than you could ever guess. And God willing you will never know it. I lived in this house as a prisoner for two years, enduring his coming and going as best I could. You knew Tom Riddle as well as anyone, yes, but not as well as I. I whom he favored. Who he desired. Did you never notice the way he would look at me in school? Or that I clung to you whenever he was near? Were you really so blinded by your own thoughts?"

"I tried to watch him as best I could when he was at school. Too many things slipped by me. But why did you never tell me?"

"He would have killed me!"

"I could have protected you!"

"That's what I thought. But it doesn't matter now."

"It does matter!" He held her by both shoulders now and tried to make her meet his eye but she struggled and thrashed against him. "What truth could be so heinous that i could not have spared you from such a fate and such a man? What is there worse than this?"

She grimaced at his expression. He had lured her in too deep. A trench surrounded her will no escape. It was loss of limb or loss of life. But assuredly it was loss of him, and her had cornered her. There would be no way out but this, and she prayed that god would forgive her for it.

"Minerva, why did you not come to me? Why –"

"Because I loved him!"

The words came screaming out of her and Albus was knocked released his hold and they stared at one another for what seemed like an age. Around them the heather was growing white and a cold chill passed through the air as though an ice age had broken out. That was the length of time that passed between them in silence.

At last he spoke, his voice old and shaken, "This is why you have been so solemn… you have been in mourning." The last word was only a whisper. He could barely force himself to say it.

She did not look away as he sat and lowered his head, clenching his eyes tight as though his body ached with pain. Her eyes swelled over from the sight of him and when he looked up at last, tears were streaming down her silent cheeks.

"I tried to keep it from you. I would have given you everything, had you only left me this one secret. But you had to treat it like some sort of mystery that was yours to find out. Like I was some riddle with an obvious and simple answer."

She was sobbing now, unable to steady her trembling voice, the bodice of her robes beginning to drown with tears. "I never wanted you to know. Not then, not now. I knew! ...I knew you could never forgive me for this..."

Minerva fell to her knees. The harsh wind swept about them like a jealous lover that hovers over the shoulder. She bade him leave the place. Shouted for him to go when he refused to and pounded the earth with her fists until her hands grew red from the stones beneath her.

Somewhere in the hills of Britain, a man and woman stood outside a small withering cottage, madly in love and clinging to each other desperately with whispers and beating hearts. But here in this patient cove, deep in the Highlands of Scotland, a man and women stepped apart.

The first withdrew gingerly into the shallows of the dark water, as a cat with nowhere left to run gracefully accepts it fate, and reluctantly faded away into the ebbing tide.

The other took a great breath and filled his lungs with air. Then falling backwards, let the wind ensnare him, and was carried off on the strong Scottish breeze, far, far away from cove and the water and the beautiful, shattered woman at the shore.


	16. To The End

The start of term was steadily approaching. Professor McGonagall could feel the changing in the winds about the castle, preparing itself for the onslaught of students that would soon fill its halls.

From where she stood the grounds stretched far into the horizon. She teetered on the edge of the lake and wondered briefly if the merfolk were stirring as the water grew choppy. She had gone for a walk to clear her head. The students would be arriving later that evening and Dumbledore had called his obligatory staff meeting, which she was due to attend shortly.

This was proving to be an exceptional year and all about her the teachers twittered in anticipation. Her old bones were anxious themselves. She tried to play it out in her mind, how it would be. After so many years it seemed odd that she could remember so many details. Every scene down to the last smudged on Albus's glasses.

Nevertheless, she would not succumb. As Deputy Headmistress she had a duty to the school and would act accordingly. Setting an example for the rest of the staff to follow.

Lifting up her robes she began the long hike back up to the castle. Old as she was there was no terrain that could daunt her. Especially not here. She knew every root and pebble as it met her feet and folded beneath their weight.

Before she saw him she felt the ground grumble unappreciatively with his footsteps and turning she called out her greeting. "Rubeus, back at last."

"Well hello, professor!" Hagrid answered cheerfully. "Did he tell ya? Did he tell ya where I been?"

Minerva smiled. "Yes, Rubeus, he has. You're late though."

"Well, I ran into an old friend down the pub. I was only there but a minute. Anyways," His voice dropped to a whisper, "the you-know-what is safe."

"Thank Merlin for that at least. I'm afraid the others are already waiting for us."

"Better get a move on then, hadn't we?"

The two wizards continued on up the hill to the castle, the one steady and graceful, and the other lumbering loudly beside her.

When they came to the second floor another figure joined them as Severus Snape strode confidently down the corridor.

Hagrid tapped his coat pocket suggestively to Minerva. "I better get this to Dumbledore before the meetin. I'll catch up."

He turned and hustled off to a separate set of stairs leading to the seventh floor just as Snape stopped abruptly before her in greeting.

"Good evening, Severus."

His stern figure lowered to a modest bow. "Professor." He replied in his slow, lilting fashion.

"Is he on his way?"

"He has momentarily been detained," He glanced over to Hagrid's disappearing form reproachfully, "and may well continue to be, but has informed me to assure the staff of his renowned punctuality."

Minerva sighed. "Very well, let's go on then, I may be able to answer any initial questions."

Severus gestured her politely forward and they continued up the stairs to the fourth floor.

As they walked Minerva held her hands clasped in front of her, inadvertently twiddling her fingers. Snape caught the movement out of the corner of his eye.

"Apprehensive?" he asked. She nodded absentmindedly. "Aren't we all…"

"I'm worried about this year, about tonight. Your portion is ready I trust."

"Of course."

She nodded again. "I hope Albus knows what he's doing."

"It was my impression that whether the Headmaster does or does not we are obligated to comply. Therefore I find worry to be of little use."

"Not all of us have your constitution, Severus." Beside her she felt him stiffen and she turned to him repentantly. "I meant that kindly—"

"I understand."

They moved on in silence, footsteps echoing off the empty stone walls until they came to the end where the rest of the staff was waiting. He opened the door for her but she caught its handle and closed it for a moment more and spoke in a hushed voice.

"Are you really so calm? Knowing what is to come next?"

Severus looked down at the anxious woman before him. "This castle," he said kindly, "and anyone within it, are well protected. By more than one." He added.

She mused over these words for a moment. Then summoning a breath of composure she pushed open the oak door to a room of her gossiping colleagues.

"Minerva, Minerva! Is it true?" Madam Pomfrey rushed forward as she entered and the rest of he room grew quiet.

"Yes, yes, it's true." She raised her voice and addressed the room sternly. "To clarify the rumors, I feel I must tell you that they are all true." Whispers broke out and she spoke above them. "And as such I expect every witch or wizard in this room to keep them to themselves. No one is to utter a word outside the presence of the Headmaster alone."

Severus backed himself against a wall at attention as the rest of the staff sat patiently and listened.

"To the first, I expect you to behave as you always have. With decorum and propriety. We treat this year of students as any other." She glanced about the room to make sure she was understood. "To the second, those of you who are needed will meet on the right hand side of the third floor corridor after the students have retired to their houses. Anything else will have to be explained by Albus."

"And it will be," Came a cheerful voice, "thank you, Minerva."

Behind her Albus Dumbledore entered the room followed briskly by Hagrid who politely refused a seat offered by Professor Sprout.

Minerva stepped aside and joined Snape where he stood.

"Professor McGonagall is correct." Dumbledore began. "What you have heard is true, on both accounts. We, the staff, must be constantly vigilant and weary of any suspicious activities or persons about the castle. I fear dangerous times may be near-at-hand."

No one spoke a word. All eyes gazed trustingly on the Headmaster. Outside the sky was growing dark and the breeze had finally settled. It would soon be time.

"On to other matters, now. The late supplies have finally arrived and I believe you'll find a nice crate of Mandrakes waiting for you in the greenhouse, Pomona. There does seem to be a mistake with ingredients however and unfortunately all the potion supplies have been muddled with your remedies Madam Pomfrey, so I must leave it up to you and Severus to sort through the mess."

The sweet natured witch looked over at Snape from where she sat with a small smile. He crinkled his eyes begrudgingly in response.

The rest of the meeting took no more than twenty minutes and soon the staff began to file out to attend to their duties before the night's ceremonies would begin. Hagrid and Minerva lingered for a moment at Dumbledore's request.

When all but they three had left the room, he turned to Hagrid eagerly. "How does he look?"

"Oh! Just like his dad, he does. Spittin' image!" The half-giant was smiling ear to ear. "An he's clever, I can tell. And brave. Ya shoulda' been there when he seed me. Ha! Never seen a group a muggle's so sick with fear in my life, 'an there he was, right as rain. Oh you'd a been proud, Dumbledore, sir."

Dumbledore grinned at Hagrid's enthusiasm for the boy.

"Good, good. Thank you for seeing him off. Better get down to the station now, its almost six. But remember, Rubues, he is a boy just like any other."

Hagrid nodded and made his way out the door. They could hear his footsteps moving away and then barreling down the stairs.

Dumbledore turned now to his Deputy Headmistress. She had stepped away from the wall and now stood near him.

"Is there anything else that needs to be done? Something we have missed?"

"No, no, Minerva. There is not a straw out of place. After tonight, all we can do is watch.. and wait."

The old man seemed tired, though it might just have been the poor lighting of the room that cast those dark circles beneath his eyes. Or it might have been the lack of sleep of late. The hours he'd spent pacing his office late at night, anticipating this very day. This very hour. He had gone over every step, every possibility, but he knew he was missing something. Something essential. Try as he might he seemed to always be one step behind. And this time he did not know from where the Dark Lord would strike.

He turned to Minerva now in utter seriousness. "You know what tonight means. I don't need to tell you that this may well be the start of it all over again."

"We have spent the better part of nine years preparing for this, Albus. But do you really think it will be so soon?"

"Yes… and no. Wherever he is, he is weak. As long as we can keep him in a powerless state we are better equipped to destroy him. It may take years for him to rise again, but mark my words, a war is approaching. It has already begun.."

Minerva shivered beneath her robes.

He looked over at her. She had changed so much in these last years. Heavy wrinkles had begun to appear along the lines of her face, and her dark, black hair was growing pale. She'd taken to wearing a hat wherever she went and the effect was a daunting one. She stood poised and regal before him, as an old woman should be who has grace and nerve and wit.

After a while they heard the bustling and chattering of hoards of students upon the grounds outside. It was time for them to take their places; the Headmaster in the Great Hall, and McGonagall just outside to welcome in the first years.

They glanced at each other once more.

"Minerva, before we go I must thank you for all that you have done for me. You, above all, have given me strength when I most needed it. And this school would surely be a mess without your guidance."

Minerva's eyes did not falter, or give her away. "I have always tried to do my duty to Hogwarts, and to you. And I will continue to do so until they have ripped the very breath from me."

Dumbledore paused a moment longer in her presence, to drink in again the way she looked and the way she smelled. The way her lips pursed themselves together when he knew her strength was with her. And then he opened again the large oak door allowing her to step through, following silently behind.

Downstairs in the Great Hall the students were now all seated. Minerva had placed the old sorting hat atop the head of Harry Potter and away he had gone to join his fellow Gryffindors. Now the hall was filled with different colors and smells and everyone delved into the feast laid before them.

Dumbledore resumed his seat at the center of the staff table with Minerva at his right hand side. As he did so he felt a warm sensation creep up his fingers and linger there. His eyes cast themselves down and in a moment had glistened over, as a soft, tender smile appeared on his lips. Minerva McGonagall had taken his hand in her own, very quietly and unseen, and held him there for a only moment in a modest, fleeting embrace.


End file.
